


Broken Roads

by DaydreamDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Happy Ending, I promise, Light BDSM, M/M, MCD is canon compliant Endverse!Dean, Polyamory, Sex, Temporary Character Death, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: Zachariah sent Dean to the future to show him how the apocalypse would go for humanity if Dean refused say yes to Michael. And Dean saw. Other him made damn sure Dean knew exactly how bad things got for Cas. When they went to kill the devil, Cas made it out alive and Dean somehow managed to drag him into the past with him. But what was he supposed to do with a broken ex-angel he didn't know how to help? Or a suddenly jealous Castiel?Honestly, Dean didn't have a goddamn clue, but sink or swim, he needed to figure it out.---“I’m beggin’ you. Say yes.” He said desperately, impassioned, before he shook his head, resigned, at his younger self. “But you won’t. Because I didn’t. Because that’s just not us, is it?”Guiltily, Dean looked away, jaw clenched, because in spite of all he’d seen. All he’d been told, he still couldn’t imagine himself saying yes. Killing half the damn planet. Even now that he knew what would happen if he failed, he just couldn’t accept it as the only option. He'd find another way, he had to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all my favorite people! This has been circling my head forever and I needed to get it out. XD
> 
> So first off, huge, huge thanks to [@Brenna_Fae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenna_Fae/pseuds/Brenna_Fae%22) who was as usual my sounding board and pitched some awesome ideas for this. I love you, and I love collaborating with you. <3<3
> 
> Secondly, like the tags say there _is_ MCD, it's canon compliant, and I tagged who it is in the additional tags because I don't wanna catch anyone off guard. It's gonna hurt. There will be a happy ending though, but unfortunately not for that particular character, much as it hurts.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for all of your support and for my subscribers I promise a new update of Maybe I was Meant to be Left Behind is coming this weekend. <3<3<3

Dean watched, horrified and uncomfortable as another version of himself implored him to say yes to Michael. Heart in his throat, denial in his eyes despite the sense his words made. There had to be another way, _had to._

“I’m beggin’ you. Say yes,” he said desperately, impassioned, before he shook his head, resigned, at his younger self. “But you won’t. Because I didn’t. Because that’s _just_ not us, is it?”

Guiltily, Dean looked away, jaw clenched, because in spite of all he’d seen. All he’d been told, he _still_ couldn’t imagine himself saying yes. Killing half the damn planet. Even now that he knew what would happen if he failed, he just couldn’t accept it as the only option. He'd _find_ another way, he _had_ to.

“Yeah, sorry man, can’t do it,” Dean replied with a nonchalant little shrug, “Not like I don’t got sympathy for what you went through, but I gotta believe I can stop this without torching everything.”

“You think I didn’t try everything I could think of? I _did,”_  he said, and Dean knew he was telling the truth, but…

“Well, I got an advantage now,” Dean said, “I know how bad it gets, and I’m _gonna_ stop it.”

“You know how- You got _no_ fuckin’ _idea_ how bad it gets,” he growled, a spark of anger in his face, which Dean thought was better than the resignation it’d been filled with a moment ago. “You think everyone you love bein’ dead’s the worst of it? That ain’t the half of it you dumb son of a bitch. Lemme show you how _bad_ it gets Dean.”

Angrily he stalked to the door and held it open, “You waitin’ for a written invitation? Come with me. I’m gonna show you something I think you need to see to really fuckin’ understand.”

With a little sigh, Dean ducked past him, brushed eerily close and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Not some kinda cosmic thing, or anything, just a chill, because he shouldn’t be able to smell himself like that, on another person. It was weird.

Other him walked briskly past, and Dean jogged a few steps to catch up. After a couple minutes it was clear where they were headed. _Cas’s_. What the fuck did Cas have to do with this? As far as Dean could see, Cas still bein’ around was one of the only _good_ things left here.

It hit him before they even walked up the sagging porch steps, exactly what the fuck this was about. He wanted Dean to see just how far Cas’d fallen. Just how far down they’d dragged him. It was the only reason to bring Dean there right then, and Dean’s stomach sank. He thought he’d seen the worst of what was going on with Cas; orgies, booze and drugs. What? That wasn’t bad enough? There had to be something _worse_ than that?

Cas obviously hadn’t been Castiel in a long damn time, that much was clear. Clearer still when they walked through the beaded curtains and Cas wasn’t there. Dean had a chance to really look around, and he couldn’t for the life of him picture his Castiel here. Straight laced Castiel who barely ever cracked a smile. Who always tried to do the right thing no matter the consequences for himself. Who was confused by social situations and didn’t understand fucking personal space.

Guilt hit Dean hard then, and the other him didn’t even have to say a fuckin’ word. Just let him stew in it.

“Okay, I get it. Cas’s life is crap ‘cause of us. That it?” Dean asked.

“Oh, his life’s crap alright, but you still got no idea,” he said, “It ain’t just about what Cas’s been through, or who is he now.” He gave a dark chuckle, like he was in on some sick joke Dean didn’t get, “It’s about exactly how far he’ll go for us.”

“Yeah, he stayed I know.”

“You keep sayin’ you _get it_ , you _know,_ but you don’t,” he said, levelled Dean with a dead-eyed stare that ate right through him. “So just sit down on the couch and shut the fuck up until he gets here. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Pissed off, Dean glared at him, but he did it, sat on the couch and crossed his arms. Stared at the door and kept his mouth shut because he didn’t wanna have to deal with himself anymore. Not that being quiet was any kinda reprieve, ‘cause he could feel him watching. Fuck what future him thought, Dean didn’t need his fucking aproval.

Not long after that the beaded curtain shifted and Cas walked through. If he was surprised to find them there he didn’t show it, just sauntered casually into the room and stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back. Almost like a soldier at ease, no, _exactly_ like a soldier at ease and Dean knew exactly who’d taught him that. Disgusted, he glanced over into his own eyes, and clenched his teeth when he gave a little shrug.

Sam was right, he _was_ just like Dad sometimes. Drill for punishment, and he wondered what the hell Cas had ever done to deserve it. Then again, from what Dean’d seen of how Cas lived, he could imagine how he’d have reacted to his lifestyle choices whenever he’d started making ‘em. Couldn’t have been pretty that was for damn sure.

Dean didn’t like to think of himself as judgmental, God knew he used alcohol as a coping mechanism a hell of a lot more than anyone ever oughta, but drugs, orgies? Damn right he’d have judged Cas. Woulda been pissed about just the orgies, because already he thought of Castiel as _his_ and it didn’t matter that that was fucked up and on him. He probably woulda taken it personally.

Cas glanced between them before his eyes settled on the other him, “What’s up?”

The smile he gave Cas was predatory, but Cas didn’t flinch, if anything he perked up a bit, what the fuck?

His voice was like melted butter when he talked to Cas, and Dean’s heart-rate jumped erratically, “Last night on earth, Cas. No whorehouses left, and I know you don’t wanna just sit here quietly.”

Cas swallowed audibly, looked between them again, then back at _him,_ “Of course not, but he-” 

 _“He’s_ gonna sit there with his pretty little mouth shut and watch. _For now,” h_ e added with a smirk. “I wanna show him just how _good_ you can be. Think you can do that for me?”

What. The. Fuck?

Without even a bit of a pause, Cas answered almost desperately, “Yes, of course.”

The look in Cas’s eyes was a heartbreaking mix of devotion and uncertainty that hurt to look at, but it didn’t last long. His face quickly went blank when the other Dean grinned at him, except his smile was all _wrong._ It was sharp and dark, ominous as his voice when he spoke, “Good. Get on your knees.”

Instantly, Cas did and Dean’s eyebrows shot up. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears as he started to put together what was happening and he opened his mouth but other him beat him to it, “Shut up and fucking watch, Dean. Gonna show you exactly what we do to Cas. How much he _likes_ it.” He shot Dean another smile that was far too brutal to be comfortable before he looked back at Cas where he knelt at his feet. “Suck me off, Cas.”

Wait- Seriously, What?

Cas’s hands quickly rushed to get the other Dean’s pants undone. Had them open so fast that Dean’s brain didn’t even have time to catch up with what he was seeing before Cas had a way too familiar dick in his hand. _Jesus._ He didn’t even work up to it, just went right the fuck to town, sucked his cock down like he’d done it a thousand times. For all Dean knew, he had. And what the fuck?

God, he really, really, really fuckin’ shouldn’t have been turned on watching Cas suck his double’s cock, but he was. Like, rock hard in his pants, aching with it turned on. How many damn times had he imagined this, only different. With _his_ cock, and _his_ Castiel? And there it was in stunning 3D with surround sound. Slippery sucking noises and little moans leaked from Cas’s lips that just ratcheted everything into hyper-realistic clarity and okay, so Cas liked to suck his dick, so _what._

Plenty of people liked to suck dick, Dean included, even if he didn’t admit it out loud much. Seedy bar bathrooms a time or twelve definitely said it loud and clear. Cas’s eyes kept flicking over to him, like he wasn’t sure if he should be letting Dean see this, and Dean wondered if Cas was worried that him knowing would fuck up the timeline or some bullshit. Huh, would it? He tried to wrap his mind around time-travel for a minute, but gave up because there were way more interesting things to think about.

Like, for example, how flushed Cas’s cheeks were, how pink and shiny his lips were, the bulge in his jeans that showed Cas was pretty goddamn into this. Dean shifted uncomfortably, his own dick throbbed in sympathy, trapped in his pants too.

“Pretty fuckin’ hot isn’t he?” Other him said, much more put together than he shoulda been for a guy with his dick down someone’s throat.

Dean started to give a noncommittal little shrug, like, eh, I guess, which would’ve been a damn lie, but no way was he gonna admit how hot this was… Except Cas’s blue eyes were on his, and he just looked so damn vulnerable for a second there, a flash and gone. Like he’d really believe it if Dean said no. Like Dean’s hard dick wasn’t doing all the talking that his mouth didn’t wanna.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and Cas’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. Not until a fist in his hair jerked him to a stop.

Roughly pulled him off and shoved him down onto all fours, “Show our guest how pretty and perfect that hot mouth is.”

The command in his voice was clear and Cas nodded, though his eyes stayed fixed on the ground in front of him when he started to stand.

“Stop,” Other him demanded, “Not like that, babe. _Crawl._ I want Dean to see _exactly_ how damn desperate you are for me.”

Dean broke into a sweat just listening to himself. Well, a version of himself. Cas- Cas wasn’t gonna… He wouldn’t do that. _He_ shouldn’t _ask_ Cas to. Except he did and Cas was. Gracefully crawled across the floor over to the couch and Dean watched every second of it. Shocked as fuck by how much he enjoyed it. It wasn’t right, _normal,_ to wanna see someone crawl over to you like that, but damn did Cas ever look sexy while he did it.

Honestly, he’d never seen the appeal in BDSM porn before right then, and Dean liked some kinky shit- he’d seen this one Japanese cartoon with tentacles, and yeah. But BDSM? Didn’t turn his crank. Or, uh, hadn’t anyway. But all sorts of images popped into Dean’s head right then.

Other him smirked when Cas finally closed the distance and reached out with slightly shaky hands to undo Dean’s belt, “Show him how badly you’re just dying for me to tell you you’re good. Let’s show him just how far down you’ll sink for a little attention from me. Bet he wouldn’t believe half the shit you’ve done for me, would he?”

“Probably not,” Cas muttered under his breath as he undid the button on Dean’s jeans and that snapped Dean out of whatever little trance he was in; his hands flew from where they’d been resting on the couch to still Cas’s hands.

“Cas, you don’t gotta do this, man,” Dean told him, voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this, want Cas. Any damn version of him he could get, Dean fucking wanted, but there was a little bit of guilt in the back of his mind. Not like he was in a relationship with _his_ Castiel, but… still… and plus, what douchebag him had said finally penetrated the fog of lust he’d been wrapped up in. Cas was doing this because _he_ wanted him to, because _he_ wanted to prove something.

Blue eyes flashed up to meet Dean’s and his breath caught in his throat, “Yes, Dean, I do.”

“Yeah, he really does. Can’t help himself when it comes to us, can you, Cas? Or did you not get that memo yet, _Dean?_ What, you thought he rebelled against _Heaven,_ for shits and giggles? Do it, Cas.” His voice was hard, angry and Cas reacted, got Dean’s pants open and for a second Dean’s brain short circuited before he stopped him again.

“No, you really _don’t_ have to, _”_ he said softly, one of his hands released Cas’s and raked through dark brown hair he’d been dying to touch for a long damn time. “Not gonna lie, Cas, I’ve thought of this a million damn ways to Sunday, but, uh, you doin’ it ‘cause Captain Dickbag over there told you to ain’t how I thought this was gonna happen.”

Cas’s eyebrow quirked up and just like that Dean saw him, his Castiel in there, “To be frank, I can’t say I foresaw this either. It really doesn’t change anything though. I want _you._ And _him._ And he wants me to, so I will. Unless… Do you _not_ want this?”

The hint of nervousness in Cas’s voice killed Dean. As if he’d _ever_ not want Cas. Wasn’t even close to the problem, “Not about if I want this, Cas. Or him. It’s you. Always been you. You really wanna do this I won’t stop you and I’ll enjoy the fuck out of it, but I gotta know it’s ‘cause you want it.”

So intensely that Dean almost had to look away, Cas stared up at him. Like he couldn’t believe Dean was real, or that Dean would say something like that to him.

 _“Want you,”_ Cas breathed, pushed Dean’s hands out of the way and got his dick out.

A second later his mouth sank down hot around it, all the way until his nose brushed Dean’s wiry pubic hair and Dean had just a fucking moment to think _holy fucking shit_ before Cas started up a rhythm that stole his breath and nearly shut his brain right the fuck down.

Like he knew exactly how Dean liked his dick sucked, and well, yeah, he guessed he kinda did, Cas provided perfect suction, perfect damn pressure with his tongue and it didn’t take long at all for a familiar heat to build up in his groin. God, Cas’s mouth felt so good, too fucking good on his cock and Dean’s chest heaved with each rushed breath he took, eyes locked on Cas’s until the only thing he saw was _blue._

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean murmured reverently, so much more in his voice than he meant there to be and Cas moaned in reply, this needy little noise that Dean _felt._

That was it, Dean was done. He groaned low and hot, tugged Cas’s hair in warning, but Cas just pushed down and swallowed around him when Dean came, spilled down his throat. So fucking hot, after the last spurt of come pulsed from Dean’s cock, Cas pulled off with a final little kitten lick to the tip of Dean’s dick as he went.

Almost instantly, there was a hand in Cas’s hair that yanked him roughly back a bit, tilted his face up. The last little aftershocks of Dean’s orgasm were still wracking his body when he watched the other Dean’s dick paint Cas’s swollen lips with precome before he thrusted into his mouth. Shoved in hard, and the sounds Cas let out then were downright filthy, pornographic and Dean’s softening dick jerked a little with renewed interest.

God, Cas was so hot; his hand rubbed frantically at the front of his own jeans, palmed his cock while his face got fucked. And just looked like there was no damn better place to be, his face was blissed out, eyes closed like he was too overwhelmed by what he felt to open them.

Then other Dean tightened the fist he had in Cas’s hair, pulled him roughly off his cock before he closed his own hand around his dick and pumped. Cas’s chest rose and fell heavily with sharp breaths until he stiffened a second later when come splashed hotly over his face, pooled on his cheekbones and dripped down onto his chest. His hand froze in his lap, and Dean expected wetness to seep through his jeans, but it didn’t.

“D’you finish?” Other him mumbled.

Cas bit his lip and softly shook his head which made more come drip down onto his chest, soaked into the collar of his shirt.

“Too bad. Maybe you’ll get lucky and _he’ll_ help you out.” He turned his attention to Dean, eyes hard when he spoke, “Clean him up, I got shit to do before tomorrow.”

Without even a glance back down where Cas knelt on the floor, still covered in his jizz, he walked out. At the sound of the beaded curtain, Cas sucked in a breath and a brief glimmer of pain flitted across Cas’s face. And all Dean wanted was to kiss it away, to fix it. Pissed the fuck off at himself, at the other him, at the whole damn situation.

He never shoulda let it get this far, never shoulda let his alternate self goad either of them into this to prove a point. Which Dean still didn’t get. So Cas was into some kinky shit, what the fuck ever. Newsflash, orgies weren’t exactly missionary style events. Honestly, he didn’t give one goddamn flying fuck what his point was. All Dean knew was that he was gonna rip him a fucking new one. Right fucking after he got Cas cleaned up and taken care of.

“Washcloth?” Dean asked softly, like he might startle Cas if his voice was too loud.

“Bathroom,” Cas answered, voice flat. He didn’t make a move to get up or more comfortable.

No way his knees were feeling good after being on them that long, but he stayed statue still, eyes closed up tight, lips pressed together. Didn’t say a word when Dean hastily did up his pants, went to the bathroom and came back with a wet face cloth and a towel.

While Dean got on his knees in front of him and wiped him down, Cas was even stiller, barely breathed and Dean’s heart ached because Cas felt like a wild animal he was trying to treat. Scared and unsure, like he was gonna bolt any second and that was just _wrong._

“Not goin’ anywhere, Cas,” Dean tried to reassure him. “Just wanna get you cleaned up before I take care of you.”

A shuddering breath left Cas all in a rush just as Dean finished up and his eyes blinked open, watery blue. Lashes all stuck together and Dean didn’t know if it was come or water or tears, but the effect was the same, and it was like a getting hit in the gut; sucked every last bit of air from his lungs and the only way to get it back was to do _fucking_ something to get that look off his face.

So Dean did the only thing he could; He surged forward and kissed him. Cas instantly parted his lips and Dean’s tongue swept in hot and slick, could still faintly taste himself in Castiel’s mouth and a little corner of his mind wondered if it was him or _him._ He pushed the thought away and focused on Cas because he deserved his full attention.

And fuck, Cas was a good kisser, exact right amount of give and take; he bit at Dean’s bottom lip and made him gasp, then slid his tongue over it which left a trail of tingles in it’s wake. Sucked Dean’s tongue into his mouth, and God, if Dean was seven or eight years younger, he’d be fully hard again instead of just under half-mast.

This was supposed to be about Cas though, he wanted to take care of Cas. So Dean shifted and sat fully onto the floor, stretched his legs out between Cas’s and pulled him forward to settle his weight on his lap. Never broke the kiss, and at that moment? Never wanted to.

Dean’s hands slid up Cas’s thighs, slowly, gave him lots of advance warning before he popped the button on Cas’s jeans, tugged the zipper down, and pushed a hand into Cas’s underwear. Slid his palm over the head of Cas’s dick and gathered up the precome there. Spread it down his shaft and used it to slick the way when Dean wrapped his hand around his cock and started to jerk him off insistently.

Cas moaned into his mouth, so fucking hot, and his hips thrusted up to meet every stroke Dean made, just as desperate for release as Dean was to give it to him. He felt like he was burning up in Dean’s hand as his breaths came faster, and his hips twitched frantically.

Dean sucked his bottom lip hard, and Cas’s body froze for a second like Dean had overloaded him and then he let out a deep groan and came all over Dean’s hand, soaked into his underwear and pants and Dean worked him through it until Cas shivered, oversensitive and wrung out. He kept kissing him though, until Cas finally came down from his afterglow and pulled away.

There was a tense quiet moment that hung between them then, like neither of them knew what to say after that. Cas just sat there and looked at him like he was trying to memorize everything about him.

Finally Cas broke the silence, “I, uh, should go clean up and get some sleep. Big day killing the devil tomorrow.”

The smirk he gave Dean then was almost believable, too. Almost.

“Yeah... sure.”

“Listen… if you want, you could,” Cas took a deep breath and on the exhale said, “Stay here for the night. It can’t be comfortable at Dean’s, and my bed’s pretty big, so… If you want.”

Should he stay the night? Dean didn’t know if that was a good idea or not, and the little bit of guilt he felt earlier over Castiel swam to the forefront of his mind, but he pushed it back at the painfully hopeful look on Cas’s face. He’d basically decided to stay when he heard something rustle outside the door.

Dean’s lips tugged down in a frown as his eyes flashed over to the beaded curtain, and then back to Cas, “I’d love to, but I uh, got something I gotta take care of before we head out tomorrow."

Cas’s eyes dimmed a little and Dean really wished he’d just said yes as a mask of neutrality slipped over his face, “Sure.”

For a second Dean thought Cas might say something more but he just got up and walked into the bathroom. Shut the door behind himself and Dean’s chin dropped down to his chest as he let out an explosive breath, _Fuck. I hurt his feelings. God, I fucking suck._

With a sigh, Dean wiped his hand off on the towel beside him, got onto his feet and quickly walked out the door before he decided to let whatever he’d heard go and just stay there, wait for Cas to come out and spend the whole damn night laid out beside him like he wanted to. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I really love writing this fic, like it comes so, so naturally, but it's so very dark. I'll be totally honest and say there's a line in here that almost made _me_ cry and I'm the one who wrote it, so... ily? This is actually my least popular wip, but it's the one I wanna work on the most. So, if you enjoy it, please, please tell me. I'll be forever grateful.

The beaded curtain clinked around Dean as he pushed through and then jogged down the steps. He just caught a glimpse of the back of Dean’s jacket before he disappeared from view around a corner. Anger surged in his gut, hot and bitter and his eyebrows drew down as it simmered to a boil in his veins. He’d been at the door listening to them the whole time. The fuck was wrong with him?

Dean didn’t think, he just stomped angrily in the direction he’d gone off in and caught up with himself just as he pushed open the door to his cabin. Frustrated, confused and righteously goddamn pissed, he jogged up the steps and forced his way in behind him. The fucker didn’t even turn around to acknowledge Dean’s presence, which just shoved Dean’s anger up another notch.

“The hell was that?” Dean demanded, voice full of fury.

“What, you suddenly got a problem with what happened? From where I was standing you looked pretty damn satisfied,” he countered with a raised eyebrow as he turned and faced him.

It looked like he was going for a neutral expression on his face, but Dean’d seen that same look in the mirror every time he tried to lie to himself, tell himself he didn’t care, that he was fine. It was bullshit; rage and cutting depression were right there under the surface in the tightness around his eyes and the clench of his jaw.

“Yeah, well, Cas sure wasn’t. Not until I did what you shoulda,” Dean said, eyes hard.

“Uh-hunh, trust me, he enjoyed the _fuck_ outta that. You think I _like_ that he likes that? That I _made_ him like that?” he questioned harshly. His green eyes glittered with barely checked anger. “He’d let me do _anything._ Fucking any damn thing I asked him to. If I told him to let the entire damn camp fuck him dry one after the other, he would. Just to make me happy. You got any idea what that’s like?”

Dean just stared flatly at him, mouth shut. Still didn’t get what the fuck the point was here.

“Didn’t think so. I tried. So _damn_ hard to get him to leave when the other angels did. Didn’t _want_ him to, but I tried everything I could think of to get him to go. He doesn’t… He deserves better than this shit hole, but the son of a bitch wouldn’t leave. Because he loves me. And he sure as fuck knew I loved him. No way he was gonna give that up for a bunch of dickbags he hadn’t seen eye to eye with in too long. The old hurt ‘em ‘til they go schtick didn’t work. Backfired, more like, and we’ve been stuck in this bullshit pattern ever since. He’s pissed at me, I’m pissed at him and fuck if we can actually talk about it like goddamn adults!”

His face was red when he took in a breath and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, “He hasn’t asked me for anything in years. Not like that. Not like he asked you,” he shook his head, and a tear rolled down one cheek though his face remained impassive, “Because—he … he doesn’t think I’ll give it to him. Thinks I wouldn’t stay if he asked. He—”

Another tear rolled down his face, “He probably thinks I stopped giving a crap about him a long time ago. You think it doesn’t kill me every time he takes someone back to his cabin? That he has regularly scheduled _orgies_ just so he can _show_ me exactly how fucking much I’m _not_ taking care of him? That he _asked_ you to stay with him when he _knew_ I was right outside the door?”

He shook his head and Dean’s stomach felt hollow with pity and sadness for both of them. Whatever fucked up shit their relationship had come to, it was clear they still both loved each other. Mighta been messed up, but it was there.

Because it would always be there for him and Castiel. Like something powerful and big, he’d felt it on the air in that barn when, sparks flying, Castiel had walked into his life. Half-terrified, half-turned the fuck on for reasons he didn’t understand, there’d been no going back after that. Never would be, no matter how twisted up things got and this was just more proof.

“Fuck,” he mumbled and wiped his palm roughly over his face, brushed away the tear tracks and stared up at the ceiling, “Don’t even know why I’m spilling my guts to you.”

“‘Cause you can’t hide from yourself?” Dean joked with a wry grin.

His eyes cut to Dean’s and beneath the pain and residual anger there was amusement.

Dean shrugged an unapologetic shoulder, “Listen, man, you know as much as I do, I got no advice to give on this. Our longest relationship was Cassie Robinson. Couple weeks and a shitty end ain’t much to go on. What I _do_ know, is he means a lot to us. Letting whatever happened push him away was a mistake you oughta fix. Gotta be honest, I’ve pictured him and us more ‘n once.... but uh, this ain’t exactly how I saw it going down.”

His lips quirked up in a knowing smirk, and Dean was glad that the tension seemed to have been defused. There was only so much heavy emotional talk he could handle in one conversation while sober. Like he read his mind, other him walked over to his kitchen and grabbed a couple beer cans out of a pack on the counter. Handed one to Dean and then popped the top on his own.

“So,” Dean said after he took a sip of his beer. “Last night on earth and all that… You really wanna spend it with yourself? Or you gonna go patch shit up that shoulda been dealt with a long time ago?”

His shoulders tensed, and his face hardened a bit, “I can’t. If I make things right with him … If I fix things … I won’t be able to—If we make it through tomorrow, I’ll fix it then.”

“And if tomorrow’s too late?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“Then it wouldn’t ‘ve mattered anyway,” he blankly replied. “You should get a couple hours sleep, we roll out before dawn. I got a few more things I need to get ready, so use my bed.”

\---

Dean woke up when he was roughly shaken by the shoulder and he jolted up to sitting as his hand scrabbled beneath his pillow for his knife.

“Calm down there, Jumpy.” A much too familiar voice grumbled and Dean groaned, rubbed a palm over his eyes regretfully.

Still wasn’t just a dream then. Maybe some creepy coma thing? Nah, his body ached too much for it to be anything but reality. Fuck Zachariah, Dean thought for the thousandth time as he forced his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Any chance you got coffee?” Dean mumbled, rubbed a hand through his hair before he stretched his arms up over his head and popped his back.

“Already on the counter in a mug for you. Assuming we still have the same tastes, it’s the way you like.”

Turned out they did, and Dean quickly downed the slightly cooler than scalding liquid with gusto. Wasn’t the best coffee he’d ever had, but God, he’d missed caffeine. He rinsed the cup and left it in the sink.

“Alright, now that you’re coffee’d up, let’s get a move on. Cas and the others’ll be waiting.”

Dean walked over and pulled on his boots, he scrutinized his face as he did, but any sign of the weakness he’d shown the night before was gone. In it’s place was the same hardened mask he’d seen since he’d gotten there. Goal-oriented and focused on his task, this Dean had no room to consider his feelings or Cas’s. Killing Lucifer was the only thing left that mattered, the only thing that could make all the sacrifices Dean knew he’d had to make worth it.

Silently, he followed him out to the vehicles where they were joined by Cas and Chuck. Dean was barely listening while Chuck rambled off some speech about hoarding toilet paper, much more focused on Cas and other him quietly conversing behind them. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their tones were warm. He glanced back just in time to see other him brush his thumb over Cas’s cheekbone and it was like the touch conveyed a million things and Cas could read them all.

Cas smiled softly at him and for just a second he didn’t look jaded and bitter and sarcastic, he just looked like someone in love. For all that things had gotten screwed sideways with them, it was obvious that Cas would forgive it all in a heartbeat. Then Other him turned away abruptly and said something over his shoulder that made Cas’s shoulders sag before he forced himself to straighten up and headed toward Dean.

Absently, Dean said, “Thank you, Chuck.” 

“Oh you’ll thank me alright. Mark my words,” Chuck informed him with a curt nod.

“I’ll see you around,” Dean said when Chuck just looked at him like he was waiting for something.

“Yeah. Okay,” Chuck replied and walked back a few steps.

In the meantime, Cas had closed the distance between them, and with a smirk that didn’t really reach his eyes he said, “You’re with me, hot stuff.”

Dean smirked back at him and rolled his eyes but followed him over to a beat up looking truck and slid into the passenger seat while Cas walked around to the driver’s side.

Not long into the drive Cas pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and used his knees to steer while he got the cap open. He shook a couple of pills into his hand and swallowed them dry while Dean watched uncomfortably.

“Lemme see those,” he said and reached a hand out for the bottle.

“You want some?” Cas asked as he handed them over then cleared his throat and refocused his attention on the road.

“Amphetamines?” Dean said incredulously after he read the label.

“It’s the perfect antidote to that absinthe,” Castiel admitted, eyes still straight ahead.

Jesus, what’d Cas done after he'd left? Gone on a bender? Of fucking course he did. Why wouldn’t he? Two versions of Dean had disappointed him one after the other. That’d probably drive anyone to self-destruction. A lump formed in Dean’s throat but he forced himself to stay calm, keep his tone light when he finally replied.

“Don’t get me wrong, Cas, I, uh, I’m happy that the stick is out of your ass. But,” Dean let out a small sigh, “But what’s going on… Wh-What’s with- with the drugs, and the orgies,” Cas started to laugh, but Dean pushed on, “And the love guru crap? What? What’s so funny?”

Cas laughed a little longer, but it wasn’t a happy laugh and it sent a shiver of concern down Dean’s spine right before he answered, “Dean, I’m not an angel anymore.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I went mortal.”

Old pain was audible just under the humor Cas was trying to infuse his voice with. Like it was some kind of ironic joke that Dean just didn’t get. Cas was _mortal?_

“What d’you mean? How?” Dean asked and even he heard how frantic his own voice sounded, how rushed.

God, he really _had_ dragged Cas down, hadn’t he? All the way into the dirt with the rest of ‘em. Cas wasn’t an angel anymore _because_ of _him._ No one else to blame. Fuck.

“I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving, but um, they bailed and my mojo just kinda pssheww. Drained away. Now, y’know, I’m practically human. I mean, Dean I’m all but useless. Last year, broke my foot. Laid up for two _months.”_

That was all kinds of wrong, and Dean had no words except, “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Awkwardly, Dean said, “So you’re human.”

Cas nodded, gaze far off and though he looked through the windshield he didn’t seem to see anything.

“Well, welcome to the club,” Dean finally said with what he hoped was levity in his voice.

“Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. I mean, now I’m powerless. I’m _hapless_ , I’m _hopeless_. I mean, why the hell _not_ bury myself in women and decadence. Right? ‘S the end, baby, that’s what decadence is _for._ Why _not_ bang a few gongs before the lights go out?” Cas said, and despite his nonchalance, his words rang hollow, untrue.

Sure, he was burying himself in women and drugs, but it wasn’t _decadence,_ it was _drowning._

“But that’s… That’s just how I roll,” Cas said with a wide grin and a soft shake of his head, like even his own body didn’t believe the words he was saying.

For a long moment, Dean just watched him in the dark and felt lost.

\---

Dawn had just broken and lit up the sky with brilliant pink, orange and lilac when they finally pulled to a stop in the city. Silence hung heavy, foreboding, over everyone and they made their way quietly on foot. They were on edge, hyper-aware. Their eyes flickered over everything, sought out movement and found none. Not a thing moved. Fucking creepy was what it was, Dean thought as he followed silently behind Cas.

Unhampered they made it all the way to the sanatorium. Eerie silence only broken by the sound of their footsteps and the shuffling of their guns as they walked. Dean watched as other him pulled out a pair of binoculars and crouched near the fence.

“There. Second floor window. We go in there,” he said as he turned to face them.

Tingles of unease shot up Dean’s spine as he watched his face. Something was wrong. All of this, it was too damn easy. If this was supposed to be a- what’d they call it? A _hot zone_ shouldn’t there’ve been more resistance? Some sign of infected people? Place was a fuckin’ ghost town and that couldn’t be a good sign.

“You sure about this?” Risa asked, from where she crouched beside Cas.

“They’ll never see us coming,” he replied, lied, Dean could see it for what it was plain as day on his face. “Trust me. Now, weapon’s check. We’re on the move in five.”

Panic raced through Dean’s veins, “Hey. Uh, _me._ Can I talk to you for a sec?”

The click of guns as they were checked over filled the air and other him hesitated briefly before he stood and followed Dean a little ways away.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on,” Dean quietly demanded.

“What?”

“I know you,” Dean said, sure of himself and terrified of what that meant. “You’re lying to these people and to me.”

Other him glanced around, checked to make sure the rest of their group wasn’t listening.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yeah. See, I know your lying expressions. I’ve seen ‘em in the _mirror._ Now there’s _something_ you’re not _telling_ us,” Dean said, eyes narrowed, shoulders tense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied again, with a shrug of one shoulder as if he could ever lie to Dean and get away with it.

But, yeah, sure, he wanted to play it that way? Dean could play that game too.

“Oh, really. Well, I don’t seem to be the only member of your posse with some questions so, uh, maybe I’ll just take my doubts over to them,” Dean announced and started to walk back the way they came.

“Okay, woah, woah, woah, woah- wait,” he said as he stepped in front of Dean, hands held placatingly up.

“What?” Dean asked, lips pursed.

“Take a look around you, man.” He paused for a second while Dean did. “This place should be white-hot with Croats. Where are they?”

Realization dawned on Dean’s face, “They cleared a path for us. Which means that this is-”

He nodded, “A trap. Exactly.”

Confused, Dean’s eyebrows drew together, “Well then we can’t go in through the front.”

“Oh, we’re _not._ They are,” he said, emotionless.

Dean just stared, didn’t _wanna_ understand. Wanted to pretend he had no fucking idea what he was saying, but even if he could, he wasn’t allowed that because other him said, “They’re the decoys. You and me, we’re going in through the back.”

Uncomfortably, Dean shifted foot to foot, nausea rolled in his stomach as he spoke, “You mean you’re gonna feed your friends into a _meat grinder._ Cas, too?” Dean shook his head and looked disgustedly at him. “You want to use their deaths as a _diversion.”_

When he didn’t answer, just looked away, Dean watched him, horrified and sickened, “Oh, man, something is _broken_ in _you._ You’re makin’ decisions that I would _never_ make. I wouldn’t _sacrifice my friends.”_

Sharply, he looked up at Dean with a hint of anger, “You’re right. You _wouldn’t._ It’s one of the main reasons we’re in this mess actually.”

No. Dean couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t believe _that._

“These people count on you, they _trust_ you.”

“They _trust_ me to _kill_ the devil and to _save_ the _world._ And that’s exactly what I’m gonna _do,” h_ e said, like he couldn’t hear how fucking crazy his plan was.

He was gonna sacrifice _Cas_ and there was no way, no goddamn way, Dean could let that happen. Not in any universe. Ever. Wasn’t a fucking option.

“No. Not like this you’re not. I’m not gonna _let_ you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

Dean didn’t see the sucker punch coming, not until it was too late. Blackness enveloped him just as pain blossomed in his face and he never even felt it when he hit the ground.

\---

Consciousness returned all at once with a burst of distant gunfire. His head hurt and he was facedown in the dirt. Fear and anxiety shot adrenaline through him and he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Another rapid-fire burst of gunshots sent him stumbling to his feet, and as he jogged toward the building flashes of light in one of the second story windows caught his attention.

He pushed himself harder. Ran toward it, and then stopped. He changed direction and ran for the back—maybe he could surprise them the same way other him had planned to go. He had to do _something._ Cas was fucking in there. Just as Dean made it around the corner of the building, he caught sight of himself on the ground, the colt a few feet away. Out of reach.

Eyes on his, fear in shades of green, perfect reflection of his own. There was a perfect white shoe on the other Dean's neck. Horror and a strange disembodied feeling washed over Dean, like he was watching something he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t look away.

“No!” Cas’s rough voice sounded just behind Dean, guttural and broken.

He reached out and grabbed Cas as he tried to push past. He had no idea what Cas thought he could do for him, but there was only one way it’d end and he wasn’t about to lose Cas on top of witnessing this. Cas desperately struggled in his arms, little pained grunts fell from his lips as he tried to break free. On the ground, the other Dean’s eyes were all for Cas, and they were full of regret. Thickly, Dean swallowed as tears filled up his own eyes.

A sickening snap made him flinch as the foot pushed down and snapped his neck. The light in the other Dean's eyes went out and Dean had to fight down a scream that lodged in his throat as the person who’d just murdered him turned around.

 _Sam._ No. No, no, no, no. _Lucifer._

“Dean!” Cas cried out as he went limp in Dean’s arms.

“Oh,” Lucifer said as he caught sight of them, “Hello, Dean.”

“Aren’t you a surprise,” Lucifer continued when Dean just stood there, struck silent. Suddenly Lucifer was behind him and Dean spun to face him, pushed Cas protectively behind him, one arm wrapped back around his waist to keep him there. “You’ve come a long way to see this, haven’t you?”

“Well go ahead,” Dean gruffly dared him, “Kill me.”

Fake shock in his voice, Lucifer replied, “Kill you?” He looked back at the crumpled body on the ground. “Don’t you think that would be a little… redundant?”

“Fuck. You,” Cas gritted out from behind Dean.

Lucifer just sighed and ignored him, spoke to Dean as if he wasn’t there, “I’m sorry. It must be painful for you. Speaking to me in this… shape. But it had to be your brother.”

As he talked Lucifer stalked forward, closed the distance between them, and Dean drew himself up taller, blocked Cas as much as he could.

“It had to be,” Lucifer said as he reached out to touch Dean’s shoulder.

Away from Lucifer’s hand, Dean ducked back into Cas, and shook his head a little. Said, don’t fucking touch me with body language instead of words and Lucifer dropped his hand.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Dean,” Lucifer said as he started to circle them, and Dean turned with him, kept Cas back. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

“I dunno. Maybe _deep fry_ the _planet?”_  Dean accused while he watched Lucifer reach out and touch a red rose.

“Why?” Lucifer asked, turned and looked confusedly at Dean. “Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful, in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of _God.”_ A pregnant pause echoed and Dean didn’t know what the hell to do, how to keep Cas safe. “You ever hear of the story of how I fell from grace?”

Without thinking Dean replied, “Oh, good God, you’re not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are ya? My stomach’s almost outta bile.”

“You know why God cast me down? Because I _loved him. More than anything._ And then God, created, _you._ The little hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before _you_. To love _you_ more than _him._ And I said, Father, I can’t. I said, these human beings are flawed. Murderous. And for _that_ , God had Michael cast me into _hell_. Now tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was _right.”_

Dean looked at the ground, fear and protectiveness and utter sadness welled up in him. Sam’s body. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam in there, trapped. Had he seen that? Was he aware? Did he know his body had just been used to murder his own brother? Did this version of Sam even _care?_ Dean just couldn’t imagine a version of Sam existing that didn’t love him, that didn’t care about him. Even if they hadn’t spoken in years, even if they didn’t see each other.

“Look at what six billion of you have _done_ to this _thing._ And how many of you blame me for it.”

Wet with tears, Dean’s eyes flew back up to Lucifer’s face. He was scared out of his fucking mind, powerless against him and hurting like hell for Cas, whose quiet sobs he could hear muffled behind him. For Sam, who he could almost see screaming behind those bright hazel eyes that were so familiar—inside that body he’d practically raised.

“You’re not foolin’ me, you know that,” Dean said defiantly, voice choked with pain. “With this sympathy for the devil crap. I _know_ what you _are.”_

“What am I?”

Dean’s voice trembled but he said it anyway, “You’re the same thing only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I been squashin’ my whole life. An ugly, _evil,_ belly to the ground, supernatural piece of _crap._ The only difference between them and _you_ : Is the size of _your_ ego.”

An unsteady breath rushed out of Dean and a drawn out moment of silence hung in the air as Lucifer smiled at him with something like pity. Whatever it was, it turned Dean’s stomach.

“I like you, Dean. I get what the other Angels see in you. Goodbye. We’ll meet again soon.”

Lucifer started to walk away and Dean opened his mouth before he could think better of it, “You better kill me _now!”_

Castiel’s hand landed on his waist, just as Lucifer turned but it only amped up everything Dean was feeling.

“Pardon?”

 _“You better kill me now._ _Or I swear,_ I will _find_  a way to kill you. And I won’t _stop!” Dean_  yelled, felt the conviction in his words right down to his bones.

He was _gonna_ kill Lucifer. He’d find a fucking way, and he wasn’t gonna give up until he did.

“I know you won’t. I know you won’t say yes to Michael either.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “And I know you won’t kill Sam. Whatever you do. You will _always_ end up… here. Whatever choices you make, whatever _details_ you alter: _We_ will always end up here.” A tear slipped down Dean’s cheek. “I win. So, I _win.”_

“You’re wrong,” Dean said, he _had to be._

“See you in five years, Dean.”

In a flash Lucifer was gone and Cas sagged against him. Dean spun around and wrapped him up tight in his arms. Cradled Cas’s head in the crook of his neck like he could make him safe there if he just held him close enough.

And then Zachariah was there, he reached out a hand and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Tighter, Dean held on to Cas. Just remembered focusing everything inside himself on not letting him go, on not leaving him behind.

A bright flash and then the three of them were back in Dean’s motel room. Confusion pinched Zachariah’s features and Cas hadn’t moved at all from where Dean was crushing him against his chest.

“Well this is certainly unexpected,” Zachariah said conversationally. “It’s not often we get a hitchhiker.”

“Oh, well if it isn’t the ghost of Christmas screw you,” Dean grumbled with false bravado, more concerned about Cas than he was with Zachariah.

“Enough, Dean. Enough,” Zachariah said soothingly. “You saw it, right, you saw what happens. You’re the only person who can prove the devil wrong. Just say yes.”

“No,” Cas mumbled against the skin of Dean’s throat.

“I wasn’t talking to you, _traitor,”_ Zachariah snapped. “Give yourself to Michael, Dean. Say yes and we can _strike._ Before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before _billions_ die.”

For a second, Dean considered it. Really thought about if he was making the right choice, but the weight of Cas, warm against him, the memory of his Castiel, of Sam. All of that would be gone. And no matter how nicely Zachariah might package it up, the showdown with Lucifer, whether he had Sam or not, was gonna destroy too much. He _would_ find another way.

Dean inhaled slow through his nose, and then smirked, “Nah.”

“Nah?” Zachariah echoed, momentarily stunned. “You telling me you haven’t learned your lesson?”

Dean’s smirk grew and he shifted his grip on Cas, “Oh, I learned a lesson, alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach.”

Zachariah’s face twisted with rage, “Well, I’ll just have to _teach it again!_ Because I got you now, boy. Not to mention I got a brand new weakness to use against you.”

Just as Zachariah reached out for Cas, a hand closed on Dean’s shoulder. Another quick flash, and a bit of vertigo and Dean found himself standing on the side of a highway in the dark. He turned himself and Cas around and breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Castiel standing there.

Head tilted a little with this confused look on his face as Dean finally loosened his grip on Cas enough that Cas could turn to see what was going on too.

“‘S pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean said, and Castiel gave him a small smile.

“We had an appointment,” Castiel replied as he eyed Cas. “I’m unsure about what transpired prior to my arrival, however…”

“Dude,” Dean said, “I’ll explain everything. Just, never change, okay?”

“How did Zachariah find you?” Castiel asked, though he very clearly wanted to ask what was up with the mirror universe version of himself that Dean still had one arm around, like he was afraid if he let go of him, he’d disappear.

“Long story, let’s just stay away from Jehovah's witnesses from now on, okay?” Dean suggested as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked.

“Something I shoulda done in the first place,” Dean answered, he looked down at Cas as he dialed and caught his eyes, then nodded to Castiel. “Hey, you think you could fill him in while I make this call?”

There was a hollowness in Cas’s eyes that cut right through Dean, but he focused enough on Dean’s words to nod yes, and then walked forward to speak with Castiel. Had to be hard, to go from danger all the time, seeing your lover killed in front of you by the goddamn devil to safe on the side of a highway in the middle of nowheresville USA. And all Dean could think as he heard the phone ringing in his ear, was that whatever it took, he was gonna make sure Cas was safe. That they _all_ were.


	3. Chapter 3

Unconscious and trembling, Cas was curled up on the motel bed next to Dean. Sweat dampened his hair and skin, and he kept making these wounded little sounds that stabbed into Dean’s gut like sharp hot blades. Everything in Dean wanted to reach out and shake him awake, but Cas hadn’t slept in three damn days, and his body’d given out.

Between the nausea from his sudden detox, care of Castiel, and the grief that haunted his every moment, Dean just couldn’t bear to wake him back up into that. There wasn’t a damn thing Dean could do to help, not really. He knew he was just a constant reminder of what Cas had lost and he could tell that when Cas was looking at him he wasn’t really seeing him, he was seeing _him._

Must really fucking suck to ache for someone you loved, someone who died, and have to look at his exact replica day after day while they talked to you. While they breathed and existed and you knew you’d never see the person you loved again. Dean wished he knew how to make it better even though there wasn’t any way he could. There was nothing that could.

It hurt like a bitch to feel helpless like that, but it wasn’t about _Dean;_ Cas was the one who was really suffering. Which was why Dean was sitting on the bed next to him, just watching him restlessly sleep like a creeper. In the other bed, Sam’d passed out awhile ago, and God knew where Castiel was.

Maybe he didn’t know how to deal with Cas or the fact that Dean’d brought him back with him, but he’d made himself even more scarce than usual and didn’t that just prick at Dean’s conscience. Because it wasn’t like Castiel had anyone else, not when he was being hunted like he was. But Dean just couldn’t have left Cas there, alone. Cas _needed_ him, needed protection. And Dean was the only one who could’ve provided it.

So he did the only thing he could—he sat back against the headboard next to Cas and ran a soothing hand through his damp hair. Hoped he’d somehow take comfort from the touch. Eventually Cas quieted down, but whether his dream just ended or Dean’s gentle hand in his hair was the cause, Dean didn’t really know. He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes. Just for a minute, he told himself.

It wasn’t morning light that softly woke Dean up much later but fingertips as they reverently traced the lines of his cheekbones, his jaw, his brow. He tried to keep his breathing steady, just let Cas have this, but something must’ve alerted him to the fact Dean was awake because he breathed out a quiet breath and left the bed. Either way, Dean remained still until he heard the bathroom door open and shut.

Not for the first time in the last couple days, he wondered if Cas regretted that last night with the three of them. Whether it made things harder for him—for both of them.

Four days later, another motel, another town and Cas seemed to be mostly okay. Or he wanted Dean to think he was. A week had gone by since they’d gotten back and he still slept like crap unless Dean was running his hand through his hair, but neither of them talked about it. Being cooped up in a motel all day was worse than when they were driving. At least then it felt like they were accomplishing something instead of sitting around waiting for someone to crack.

The crap with the angels still hung heavy over all their heads, and Dean tried not to think too hard about how damaged his relationship with Sam still was. The only reason they weren’t picking each other apart constantly was because Cas was there, and Sam didn’t wanna fight in front of him. Sam thought that it might upset him, especially since they’d had to lay out what’d happened in the future.

Dean hadn’t really planned to go into the details with Sam, but how else was he gonna explain an extra angel that wasn’t an angel anymore who he was suddenly going to be dragging around. He didn’t even wanna think about how he was gonna explain the fact that oh, by the way, he had feelings for not just one but two versions of Castiel.

Yeah, it hadn’t really seemed like the time for those kinds of revelations when Sam’d been freaking out about timelines and Cas’d been staring at Sam like he was terrified of him. If Sam’d wanted to prove to Castiel he wasn’t a bad person, it was a thousand times worse with Cas. Because unlike Castiel, Cas actually had a damn good reason to expect the worst of him. So Sam was bending over practically backwards with Cas in an over-the-fucking-top kinda way to show him he wasn’t a threat. It was painful to watch, because Sam, _this_ Sam anyway, wouldn’t ever hurt either of them. And Dean might not fully trust him, not all the way, but he knew _that._

So Dean was torn in twenty different directions and practically paralyzed with indecision about what to do next. They were holed up, looking for a case for lack of anything better to do and when Cas’d said he needed to get some air for a minute at ten p.m that night, Dean’d barely looked up from the laptop as he nodded that he’d heard.

Sam was in the shower, shitty hot water tank meant that they had to rotate who showered at night or else one of ‘em would have to take a cold one in the morning, and yeah, no thanks. Dean was well past the showering in cold water phase of his life with no intentions of taking one again.

It wasn’t until Sam sauntered back into the room, freshly clean, wet hair still dripping everywhere ten minutes later that Dean realized Cas’d been gone a while. Unease slithered through his belly and he bit his lip as he wondered if it’d be an overreaction to go look for him. Cas was a completely capable, fully trained soldier from a dystopian future where basically _everything_ was a threat. He didn’t need Dean to baby him.

But he was also traumatized, volatile, and a known recreational drug user with nothing to lose. That thought pushed Dean to action, he stood up and grabbed his jacket from where he’d tossed it carelessly on the bed, shoved his arms in the sleeves.

“What’s up?” Sam asked with a raised brow.

Dean shrugged a shoulder as he headed for the nightstand to grab his keys, “Cas’s been gone a bit. Just gonna go make sure he didn’t get himself in some kinda trouble. Probably nothing, but—” Dean’s hand closed over his keys without looking while he talked to Sam, shoved ‘em in his pocket and he reached for his wallet, which should’ve been right next to it, only ... “Aw, son of a bitch!”

Sam’s other eyebrow joined the party, and Dean rolled his eyes. Great. This night was going fucking fantastic.

“He took my fucking wallet,” Dean muttered angrily, and Sam’s lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh, only it wasn’t goddamn funny. Not to Dean.

“He probably just needed to blow off some steam, dude. Calm down,” Sam said in a gentle voice.

Too gentle and it just pissed Dean off, “Fuck that. I’m not gonna sit here and worry about his ass for who knows how long.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna go track him down and drag him back here? Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over real well,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes as he sat down at the table with his laptop.

A frown tugged Dean’s lips down, but he didn’t have another option, really. And who cared what Sam thought of how Dean handled things with Cas. Okay, so Dean cared. A little.

Dean sighed, and the misplaced anger he was directing at Sam deflated a little, “Look, I’m at least gonna track him down and make sure he’s okay. Can you just, I dunno, help please?”

Honest pleading in Dean’s voice seemed to take the wind out of Sam’s sails too, and he let out a little sigh of his own, “Yeah, okay. Think he’s still got the phone you gave him?”

Quick glance around the room and Dean didn’t see it anywhere, so he figured probably. Hoped Cas wasn’t dumb enough to wander off alone and without a means of getting in contact with them anyway, “Don’t see it, so hopefully?”

Turned out Dean’s hope was founded, because Sam tracked the signal to the rough vicinity of a dive bar a few blocks away and Dean felt dumb as fuck for not just heading there on sheer instinct. It’s where he woulda gone if he needed to get the hell out of the room for a while, and who’d taught Cas all about how to deal with stress, with loss? Though _deal with_ was a strong way to put bury down deep and never touch until it exploded in a fiery shower of alcohol and rage, but gotta do what you know how to.

“Want me to come with you?” Sam asked as Dean stalked to the door.

“Nah, I got this. Why don’t you see if you can find us a case? Sooner we get something to distract us, sooner we’ll all feel better,” Dean said and Sam cocked his head a little.

“You really think Cas is ready to hunt?” Sam asked skeptically.

“Well, maybe not full on, but I know for a fact he can hold his own. Probably be good for him to have something other than, uh… Yeah. Anyway, we’ll be back soon,” Dean awkwardly said.

“Yeah, okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Out the door before Sam could call him on the weirdness in his voice, Dean walked to the bar rather than drove. Wasn’t _that_ far away, and besides, maybe he’d join Cas for a drink or several if Cas just wanted to get out of the motel. Didn’t have to be a big deal. Dean didn’t _have_ to make it one.

A few minutes later Dean pushed through the door of a bar identical to any one of the shitty themed bar’s he’d been in over the years. This one had a bit of a midwestern flare, but he barely paused to notice it, eyes too busy as he scanned the room for messy dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. A few false hits while he made his way over to the bar, but there was no sign of Cas.

He couldn’t help but think as he sidled up to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him, that it’d be so much easier to track down Castiel in a place like this, no way the bartender would’ve missed an awkward looking dude in a suit and trenchcoat. Cas though, wearing a ratty pair of Dean’s hand-me-down jeans that were a little snug and one of Sam’s too big flannel shirts? He’d blend right in.

“Hey, Darlin’, what can I get you tonight?”

It wasn’t that long ago that Dean would’ve given the pretty bartender in front of him a slow once over and a cheesy line. He would’ve spent the night getting hot and heavy with her out back after her shift, maybe would’ve gone back to her place. Not tonight though, he barely even noticed the interested smirk on her dark red lips.

“I’m looking for my buddy,” Dean said. “Little shorter ‘n me, blue eyes, brown hair. Good looking?”

She looked at him skeptically, then glanced around the room like she was saying, describes a quarter of the people in here, dumbass. Dean wracked his brain for a better descriptor, “Tight jeans, flannel shirt? I dunno, he probably got here fifteen, twenty minutes ago? Bet he drank a lot too.”

That one made recognition flare in her eyes, “Sarcastic like all get out?”

A small smirk crossed Dean’s face, “Sounds like him.”

“Yeah, he was just here a minute ago,” she replied, scanned the crowd again, “Maybe he went to the washroom? Kinda lost track of him after his sixth shot with Rob.”

Who the hell was Rob? What the fuck ever, not important. Dean thanked the bartender and headed over to the washrooms. He pushed the door open, and whatever the fuck he'd expected to see, it damn well wasn’t Cas on his knees in the back corner of the dingy bathroom with a dick shoved down his throat. Shock and red-hot jealousy slammed into him.

It took Dean’s mind way too fucking long to come online, catch up to the fact that Cas was enthusiastically sucking a dick right fucking in front of him and it wasn’t his. Not only wasn’t it his, it was a fucking stranger’s. In a goddamn dirty bathroom. Maybe Dean didn’t have any sort of claim over Cas, it wasn’t like one blowjob gave you permanent exclusive rights to someone’s mouth, but fuck if Dean could help the possessive, pissed-off, territorial reaction he had to seeing Cas with someone else. His brain just said _mine,_ and Dean couldn’t argue with it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Cas?”

Too angry, words spilled out before Dean thought better of it, and Cas’s eyes popped open just as the guy, Rob, Dean assumed, startled and pulled out of his mouth like someone’d punched him in the gut, which Dean seriously fucking considered, even if it _wasn’t_ his fault.

“Holy shit, that your boyfriend? Listen, I don’t wanna get in the middle of this, it’s none a my business.” Rob fumbled his rapidly wilting dick back into his jeans, pulled a twenty out of his pocket like he didn’t wanna be rude, didn’t wanna insult either of them, and tossed it on the ground beside Cas before he walked out of the bathroom, hands held up defensively.

Floored and not in a good way, Dean thought it was _way_ fucking more insulting to toss Cas money. Right up until Cas finally swiped his hand across the back of his mouth and then spoke, “The fuck did it look like I was doing, Dean? Oldest profession.”

Flabbergasted, was a great way to put what Dean felt, because _what in the ever loving_ fuck, “Why? I don’t-  whatever you needed Cas, I’d give it to you.”

“Yeah? Would you?” Cas gave him a look that dripped sarcasm and anger, probably would’ve been a lot more threatening if Cas wasn’t still on his knees. “If I told you I wanted you to fuck my mouth right here, right now, you gonna do that? Make me forget everything except the way it feels when I can’t breathe around your cock? I’m tired of _thinking_ about him. I’m sick of _missing_ him. I just wanna forget…” Tears formed in the corners of Cas’s eyes. “Just for a little bit. And _someone_ won’t let me get high enough to, so what was I supposed to do?”

A broken gasp and then Cas said, “There’s not enough alcohol in existence to _numb this._ I’m… Dean, I’m _tired_ of everything _hurting._ ”

“If that’s what you need, Cas, really need, then _yeah._ I would. Will it really help?” Dean answered and it was the honest truth, he’d do, say, _give_ any goddamn thing Cas wanted to take his pain away, even temporarily.

Cas looked broken. Tears shimmered in his eyes, made the blue of them even brighter with agony, and all Dean wanted to do was pick him up off the floor and take him back to the hotel. Just cradle him in his arms and hold him together. Cas’s bottom lip trembled and he bit down on it.

“I … I don’t know.” Cas finally admitted, eyes lowered pitifully to the ground in front of him.

“Can I take you back to the hotel?” Dean asked carefully. “I was thinking you could work the next case with us. Maybe getting out of your own head’ll help. And … and if it doesn’t … Just tell me what you need Cas. I swear to God I’ll do it.”

The way Cas’s eyes widened right before tears splashed over onto his cheeks ripped a new wound in Dean’s chest though he didn’t know why. Something about Cas’s expression right then, like a cross between grief and relief hit Dean hard and he crossed the room to help Cas up.

Barely got him to his feet when Cas threw his arms around Dean’s waist and buried his face in his neck. Sobs wracked his body and all Dean could do was hold him close, because he didn’t have a sweet damn clue what else to do.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Promise this isn't abandoned and I'm still working away at it. Not really sure when the next update will be, mainly because DCBB's coming up in a few months and I'm knee deep in my fic for that, plus I'm also working on my own original novel which is super important to me. That said, I love this fic, and it's at the top of my to-do for wips. <3 Feel free to come say hi over on tumblr [@DaydreamDestiel](https://daydreamdestiel.tumblr.com), I'd love to hear from you. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been awhile since the last update. I'm working away at my DCBB for this year, plus working on my own novel, so I'm squeezing this in when I can. <3 Hopefully once I finish up my DCBB I'll be able to get more frequent updates out on this. Thanks so much for your patience and your kind comments. <3

Blood buzzed loud in Dean's ears accompanied by a faint ringing. His vision swam as he blinked his eyes and then resolved on Cas’s face splattered with blood, up pretty damn close to his own. Panic spiked his adrenaline, made his heart race and his blood run cold, instantly fully awake as his eyes wildly scanned the area for a threat.

On the ground a few feet away was a bloody and decapitated Paris Hilton. Wait. Not Paris Hilton, Leshi. Right. She’d knocked him and Sam out and apparently bound them to trees. His hands were tied behind his back and the striking warmth on his face was Cas gently cupping his cheeks. Dean blinked hard a few times and the buzzing in his ears finally died down enough to make out what Cas was saying. His name laced with fear to match the anguish on his face.

“Yeah.” Dean grunted. “I’m fine. Sam?”

“He’s here too. What the hell were you two thinking?” Cas demanded, frustration in his voice that Dean knew he was absolutely the cause of. “I took a goddamn shower and got out to an open webpage on fucking _Leshi_ and a note saying ‘Gone to the wax museum’. What the hell happened to the whole _let’s work on something to get your mind off shit plan?”_

Face red with fury, Cas’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed in a hard line while he waited for Dean to answer. Just as Dean opened his mouth to offer a frankly shitty one Cas cut him off.

“Do you have any _idea,_ any, what that was like? Do _you?_ I just watched him _die,_ Dean. And you have the fucking _nerve_ to go off half-cocked without me and almost make me go through it all over _again?”_

Dean’s stomach dropped like a lead weight and his guilt must’ve registered on his face because Cas blinked hard, eyes wet and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I don’t fucking know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not doing well after losing you once. The fuck do you think’ll happen to me if I have to do it twice?” most of Cas’s words were muffled into his hands, but Dean heard them, clear as day.

“Sorry,” he choked out; felt insufficient, _was_ insufficient, but it rang with sincerity. “Cas, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t ‘ve-”

“Damn _right_ you should’nt have,” Cas said in full agreement, but some of the ire had melted out of his voice.

His eyes stayed wild though and Dean almost regretted leaving him behind. He just—he wasn’t sure if Cas’d really been ready for this. Seeing as Cas was the one who actually took Leshi down though, Dean’s unfounded worries were amounting to a steaming pile of horseshit and nothing he said was gonna make it sound less goddamn dumb. He’d just wanted to make sure Cas was safe. It wasn’t such a bad thing, but if he’d taken a damn minute to think about what it’d do to Cas if they didn’t come back right away he’d ‘ve never left him.

“Won’t happen again, I swear,” Dean promised softly and Cas nodded in response, blue eyes still intensely focused on Dean's.

Sam’s throat cleared a few feet away and Dean glanced over to see an awkward half-smile lift the corner of his lips, “Uh, hate to interrupt guys, but we should probably get out of here. Call in a tip for the cops to come find the girls.”

A beat longer, Cas stared at Dean until he finally acknowledged that Sam’d spoken, and then he cut Dean loose. He handed him the knife to free Sam and pulled another from his boot so he could go help the unconscious girls. Dean let out a quiet sigh as he walked over to Sam and sawed at the ropes that bound him. His own wrists burned where the rope had bitten into them, though he pointedly ignored the physical discomfort he felt.

The mood on the drive back to the hotel was somber. There was tension between all three of them; Cas was probably still upset with them both, Dean was wallowing in regret for leaving Cas behind and the things he’d said to Sam before they left. That he’d flat out told him he still didn’t trust him and the hang dog look on Sam’s face that’d made his chest ache. Sam was likely pissed at Dean, both for what he’d said and for insisting they leave Cas. All in all it was a goddamn clusterfuck and Dean wished he could just get his shit together.

Anger was the best defense he had against anxiety and fear, but it left scars on the people he cared about. And when the moment faded, he was left with regret and a burning need to apologize that never seemed to materialize into actual words. The fact he’d said out loud that he was sorry to Cas and honestly really meant it was kind of big in a way, not that it made up for anything.

The parking lot was quiet and dark when they pulled up, which was good because while Cas’d washed what he could off at the wax museum there wasn’t much he could do about the blood spatter all over his clothes. Dean was pretty sure that it’d cause some alarm if anyone saw them on the way to their hotel room. They all climbed out of the car in silence and headed in. They made it to just shy of the door when Cas spoke, “Sam, you’re gonna want your own room tonight.”

“What? Why?” Sam’s voice was confused, and Dean turned around to figure out what was going on just in time for Cas to reach out and pull him into a hot, possessive kiss that stole his breath.

So, the cat was out of the bag on the whole Cas and Dean thing, but with Cas’s hand buried in his hair, lips slick and firm against his own, Dean didn't much care. It was hard to concentrate on Sam’s probable shock when Cas’s tongue licked along the seam of his lips, slipped into his mouth and drove him crazy with want.

Full of intent, Cas backed Dean up against the hotel room door, fitted their hips tightly together while Dean held onto the firm muscles of his biceps like they were the only things keeping him upright. Dean wasn't a stranger to post-adrenaline rush sex at all, but something about Cas ratcheted the intensity up, kick started a rush of arousal that left him achingly hard already, needy as a groan caught in his throat.

“Uh, wow. Okay, yeah. I'll go grab my own room, then. Just … ugh. Really guys? Can't stop for five damn minutes? Whatever. Just bring my bag over later Dean. I'll text you the room number.”

This was probably the part where Dean should respond to Sam’s request, but it was kinda difficult to do that with Cas’s tongue in his mouth so he just hummed his agreement and hoped Sam walked away. The echo of retreating footsteps in the stillness of the parking lot seemed to indicate he did at least.

Any attention Dean might've spared for Sam's comfort was rapidly forgotten as Cas’s hand slipped under his untucked t-shirt, splayed over the bare skin of his waist. Cas's fingers were warm and solid as they dipped below his waistband while his thumbs grazed the cut of his hips, and God, Dean wanted them everywhere. Almost dizzy with the need for a clear uninterrupted breath, Dean gasped in fresh night air when Cas broke away and sucked dark kisses into the side of his neck.

Fuck, it felt so damn good that Dean shivered against Cas, arched into him and tilted his head back to give him more room even as he managed to gather himself enough to speak, “Cas, ah … Cas, c’mon. Let’s—oh fuck. Let’s go inside.”

“You drive me crazy,” Cas growled against the damp skin of Dean's neck. “Dean Winchester, you're the most infuriating man I've ever met.”

“Been said by more than one person,” Dean offered with a wry chuckle. There wasn't any shortage of people he pissed off. Most of 'em didn't try to shove their tongue in his mouth, though—well, not _most_ of 'em anyway.

Cas let out a sound of frustration before he stepped back, “Open the door, Dean.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” 

He turned around, unlocked the door and held it open for Cas. They barely got inside and got it closed before Cas spoke again. The dim light of the bedside lamps cast shadows on him as he faced Dean.

“I can't mess this up _twice_ with you.” His eyes were watery in a way that made Dean's chest tighten painfully. “I can't lose you again.”

“No, I know.”

“No, not like—I don't want to fuck up with _you_ like I did with _him_ and I don't … I don't know how _not_ to.”

Heart in his throat, Dean stepped forward and placed his hand on the side of Cas’s neck as he said, “You don't wanna make the same mistakes? Don't, then. We won't. For worse or for better, Cas, I'm not _him._ We can make this different. Just- tell me what you want.”

Longing, guilt and a hint of fear were all evident in the widening of Cas’s eyes. He bit his lip and shook his head a little as he shrugged, “I don't … I don't know. It's selfish and reckless and unfair but I just want.…”

“Want what?”

A deep breath in and on the exhale Cas breathed, “You.”

Something warm and tender swelled in Dean’s chest and stole the air from his lungs. He closed the slight gap between them and pressed his lips to Cas’s, achingly slow, he kissed him and emotions burst through him rapid fire as he backed Cas toward the closest bed—protectiveness and affection, desire and possessiveness and so many other conflicting things he didn’t understand in the slightest.

It was crazy how much he wanted Cas, how much he felt for him and maybe some of it was mixed up with what he felt for Castiel—but it was _Cas_ too. All on his own and he _needed_ Cas and Cas needed _him_. A little more fucked up was that Dean still wanted this with Castiel too, which surged a little guilt in his gut that he shied away from. He could deal with that later.

They worked each other's clothes off as they went and it wasn’t frantic or desperate, just a gradual, inevitable build up as they stole kisses and their hands smoothed over soft bared skin. It felt right and perfect and Dean was drowning in Cas. By the time they crashed back onto the bed, they’d at least managed to get down to underwear and Dean pushed their hips snug just to feel the solid jut of Cas’s cock against his own through layers of cotton.

Cas lost a breathy gasp to Dean’s mouth and fuck, it was so good that Dean rocked down again, swiveled his hips in little circles that teased them both with friction and pleasure. Fleetingly, he thought about how long it’d been since he’d really taken the time to enjoy being with someone like this. Urgency built up slowly between hot passionate kisses that turned Dean on just as much as any type of sex he’d ever had. Because it was Cas, and God, he wanted this so damn much.

He focused his attention on the way Cas’s sweat slick skin was gliding against his own as they rubbed off on each other. The way his hand sank easily into Cas’s hair and held on, tilted his head a little to make the angle just right. Each soft little sound Cas made with every press of Dean’s body pooled arousal in Dean’s gut like hot liquid, forced an echoing groan from his throat.

So damn tightly, Cas clung to him, hands dug into his back like Dean would melt away into nothingness if he didn’t hold him close enough and it made Dean's chest ache as he wondered if Cas had ever gotten this from that other version of him.Whether it’d always been as rough as what he’d witnessed.

The blissed out way Cas arched up into him, seemed to be lost in the slow, deep kisses they shared … Dean got the feeling it was either new or he hadn’t had it in way too damn long. He made it his mission to take his time with Cas, traced every inch of his mouth with his tongue, nipped and sucked at his lips until their mouths were swollen and bordered on numb. 

With no place they needed to be anytime soon, he was gonna make damn sure Cas got everything he deserved tonight. So he kissed his way along Cas’s jaw, bit down lightly on the hinge and followed it up with a kiss sucked just under Cas’s right ear. He drove Cas crazy with just enough friction to keep them on the razor sharp edge of desperation and enjoyed every gasp, every moan Cas let loose. He loved the way Cas pushed up into it as he licked and sucked his nipples into dark hardened peaks, shuddering and shaking beneath him.

Steadily, he worked his way down Cas’s body and left a trail of purpling bruises and bite marks that looked goddamn good against all that tan skin. As he peeled Cas's boxer briefs off, his own dick throbbed with a rush of heat. It wasn't any wonder when he was looking at the perfect thick hard length of Cas’s cock, exact right size to make his mouth water and he needed to get his mouth on it—right goddamn now.

He leaned down purposefully and licked along the wide base, caught Cas’s heavily lidded eyes as he did. Awe and desire there that made Dean's skin feel suddenly way too small to contain everything he felt. Cas bit his full lower lip hard and squeezed his eyes shut as his hips involuntarily hitched toward Dean’s mouth.

Dean took the hint and sank his mouth hot around Cas’s cock, lips tightly sealed around him. He went so slowly that it was borderline torture for both of them and when Cas tried to speed things up with a thrust into the heat of his mouth, Dean smirked and laid his forearm across Cas’s hips to hold him down. So fucking hot, Cas squirmed against the pressure like he couldn't help it.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, he already sounded wrecked and Dean was barely warmed up. He couldn’t wait to hear how desperate Cas got for it. “Fuck, your _mouth.”_

An amused hum rumbled in Dean’s chest, because yeah, Cas, kinda the point. He sucked his way back up Cas’s cock, swirled his tongue over the head and teased at the bundle of nerves on the underside with quick flicks. A blurt of salty bitter precome was a heady reward that combined addictively with the needy gasps Cas made for him.

Dean'd never really gotten the chance to enjoy giving blowjobs; the handful of times he’d actually been the one doing it, it’d been rushed and sloppy in a dive bar bathroom. This was so much better. Not that he hadn’t liked doing it before, but getting to really concentrate on how it felt, on the taste and the smell of Cas, fuck it was carnal and erotic, mind-blowing. So turned on it was ridiculous, because his dick’d barely seen any action.

Gradually, Dean sped up and the flex of Cas’s muscles beneath his forearm as he tried so hard to shove up into it each time Dean swallowed him down was sexy, burned lust low in Dean's belly. There was only so long either of them could hold out like that. Just as Cas started to tense up, Dean pulled off with one last slow suck.

Cas’s head was thrown back into the pillow, white teeth still dug into that gorgeous bottom lip as he struggled for composure he couldn’t seem to find. His dick was flushed dark, shiny with a mix of Dean's spit and precome, and fuck, Dean's gut clenched at the debauched picture he made, wantonly sprawled on the bed as his chest heaved.

“God, you’re hot,” Dean sighed, and Cas’s lips twitched in a lopsided smile as he cracked his eyes open. 

“Not God,” Cas declared in a wry sorta tone, “Not even really an angel of the Lord.”

It wasn’t even voluntary when voice rough, Dean replied, “Still _my_ angel.”

Eyes dark and full of way too much emotion, Cas tugged him up and Dean went willingly—blanketed Cas’s body and crushed their lips together. The hot sweep of Cas’s tongue into his mouth was demanding and so good. In a flash Cas rolled them neatly over so that Dean was the one all spread out on the bed and that was all kinds of way too sexy.

Cas kissed him back into the pillow like he couldn’t get enough of Dean, like Dean was the best thing he’d ever tasted, grinding their hips together as he did. The drag of Dean’s own damp boxer briefs over his sensitive cock rode the edge of painful so perfectly that Dean trembled with it.

A choked off gasp left Dean’s lips and he threw his head back, overwhelmed and overheating. Cas shifted up onto one arm, using his other hand to push Dean’s underwear low enough that working together they managed to get them off without losing much contact. Then Cas was pressed all up against him again, nothing between them this time. Just smooth slick skin and hard muscles sliding over each other with every roll of Cas’s hips. So fucking hot that Dean was half out of his mind with the need to come.

He just got pushed higher and higher when Cas’s lips fastened on the side of his neck, sucked and licked what Dean knew was gonna be an impressive bruise there. Shocks of pleasure and pain burst bright along his nerves, little grunts and groans he was barely aware of making echoed in the air.

Supposed to—he was supposed to be making this good for Cas, but Cas was busy expertly breaking him down and Dean couldn’t remember why he’d ever thought that he should set the pace because Cas was fucking amazing at this and Dean should just always let him do whatever he wanted.

“Fuck … ah … fuck, Cas,” he panted as he dug his fingers into Cas’s ass cheeks, pulling him down harder, faster against him. “Wanted—oh fuck—wanted to take my time with you.”

The scrape of Cas’s teeth over the stubble on his jaw left tingles in it’s wake, “Next time," he breathed hot into Dean’s mouth.

 _Next time,_ Dean’s brain replayed the words like a promise and he was so close. Cas, _Cas. Fuck._

“Yeah, next time,” Dean agreed, eyes locked on Cas’s for a second before he was forced to close them against the searing feeling of too-much-not-enough. “Want you to fuck me next time.”

A little stutter of Cas’s hips like the words Dean’d grunted out had sent an electric current through him and then Cas buried his face in the curve of Dean’s shoulder, bit down there as he worked a hand between their slippery bellies and fisted their cocks together. He gave them a tight channel to fuck into, dicks slick with sweat and precome , the pressure and sensation as they slid together was fucking perfect. Something so much more intimate about this than any quick fuck Dean’d ever had.

He felt more connected to Cas, even, than he had to Cassie during their fling, which said a goddamn lot because she was as close to love as Dean’d ever been—and it was hard to focus right now on what the fuck his point was because everything in him just screamed that he needed to be closer to Cas, that he needed more.

“Cas, Cas, fuck, _Cas.”_ His words came out like a prayer and the desperation in his voice would’ve been embarrassing, but Dean was so far past rational that embarrassment didn’t even enter into the equation. Just heat and desire and the coiling of pleasure in his groin.

The fervor and pitch of their groans should’ve drowned out the sound, but Dean’d recognize that rustle anywhere. His eyes shot open, and locked onto the source over Cas’s shoulder. Their their rhythm didn’t falter. There was no way that Cas didn’t know Dean was staring into wide, glassy blue eyes across the room, perfect mirror image of the ones he’d been staring into moments ago.

Lightning sparked down his spine when Castiel didn’t instantly fly off, just stared, cheeks flushed, confused and very obviously turned on at them. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as molten lava replaced the blood in his veins and it wasn’t the friction or tightening of Cas’s hand or the wet heat of Cas spilling sticky into the space between them that pushed Dean over the edge—though it definitely helped. It was Castiel’s eyes, dark and locked on his as his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips.

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut against his will, pleasure slamming into him with monumental force. He came in violent splashes all over them and collapsed back bonelessly with the last feeble pulse of his orgasm. When he finally drifted back down enough to force his eyes open, Castiel was gone and a dull ache lodged in Dean’s chest just behind his ribs. He had no idea what he thought’d happen, but he felt hollow just the same.

He was brought back to himself by Cas lifting himself up and kissing him, running a soothing hand through his hair, and he didn’t forget the confusing combination of guilt and desire that crept along the edges of his mind, but he let Cas help him push it down with lingering nips and sucks to lips gone thick and clumsy with overuse.

They were both messy and sticky, but neither of them was in a rush to clean up. Cas slipped off of him and curled up with his head pillowed on Dean’s shoulder, comfortable and warm. Dean wouldn’t call himself a cuddler despite the fact that he absolutely was one. He only proved the point by wrapping his arms wordlessly around Cas and bundling him in closer.

“That was … was it—” Dean hesitated, unsure if he should finish that thought, scared it would bring everything crashing down around him, send Cas into a tailspin, but Cas just watched him, head tilted to the side from its place against Dean's shoulder. “Was it always intense like that?”

Cas’s eyes went liquid, his lips parted for a moment before he swallowed audibly and then answered, “No … It … uh, it used to be. A long time ago. Back when things were good. When we were still good together.”

Stomach heavy with regret for something he hadn’t even done, Dean dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and said, “For what it's worth Cas, I'm sorry everything turned out the way it did.”

“Yeah, me too. He was … so fucking stubborn. Devoted to his cause. I always admired that drive of his to keep going, to beat the odds. Save the whole world. And he always had faith he would. Until he just, didn't. I knew when he sent us in that day that he didn't think we’d come out. Knew it was off even before we left. Last second change from riding with him to taking you. Said he thought I should remember how he used to be. And I still followed his idiotic, suicidal plan because I guess I had faith in him too.”

Cas’s eyes shut tight but he didn’t pull away so Dean waited it out.

In a small broken voice Cas said, “I wasn’t supposed to make it out.”

Some part of Dean knew that was true, but, “Supposed to or not, Cas, you did. Gotta be a reason for it.”

Skeptically, Cas looked at him before his face turned thoughtful. A few moments lapsed in comfortable silence and then he softly said, “He has feelings for you, you know. He just doesn’t understand them yet.”

There wasn’t even a little part of Dean that was confused about who Cas meant. His cheeks flushed and he wanted to look away but the honesty on Cas’s face kept Dean’s gaze there, “I—he—I—”

Cas’s lips pulled up in a warm smile, “Don’t give yourself an aneurysm. You have feelings for him too, it’s okay.”

“But I—but you—and—”

“But me, what? I said it was reckless and stupid and selfish to want you because I know you’re meant for each other and I want you anyway. It’s crazy that I feel like I already love you because you're _not_ him and I _know_ that. Maybe that's part of it, but you're different too. And I remember him like you are now and maybe it's fucked up and wrong. Maybe I'm just a bad person, but I don't want this to stop. You're the only thing that makes _sense_ to me right now.”

Blue eyes stared into Dean's. Pleading in them so thick that it made his throat feel too tight.

Cas inhaled slow and with a bittersweet smile said,  “I’m not entirely heartless, however. He might not know it, at least not completely but he needs you too. He gave up everything for you. Sharing isn't a skill you're big on, I know but … I think we could make it work.”

Woah, what? Dean's heart downright skidded to a momentary stop. Sharing? Share him … That was just— “I don't … uh, what?”

“And I’ll admit, the idea of introducing an infinitely less experienced version of myself to the world of mutually pleasurable orgasms is pretty hot,” Cas said with a smirk.

Well, Dean’s dick definitely took interest in that line of thought, tried to fatten up a little at the fantasies his mind rapidly called up. Only, Dean felt bad for thinking it too. Like he was cheating on someone except there was no one to cheat on in this scenario, was there? Not when it was Cas’s idea and he didn’t even _have_ a relationship with Castiel beyond the one he’d built up in his own head. Earmarked moments of searching looks and silent language.

“I can feel you freaking out in there,” Cas said, like he could read Dean’s mind. “It’s not that complicated. You just need to think outside the box. Everything tells you that you can only have feelings for one person or else it’s not real but think of it like this: Love isn’t finite. It’s not a limited resource. Caring for more than one person doesn’t make you care less for either of them. It’s more like your ability to care grows. You just need to wrap your head around the fact that it isn’t a bad thing.”

Internally, Dean was still freaking out a little even though what Cas was saying made sort of a lot of sense to him. He wasn’t used to facing what he felt head on like this. His feelings for Castiel had been pushed down for so long, buried good and deep and it was hard to make himself actually think about them for once. Plus, Dean wasn’t even good at relationships with _one_ person. How could Cas think he’d be anywhere near good enough for two?

Maybe he could be though? And did he even have much of a choice? When the alternative was hurting Cas or Castiel? His stomach clenched nauseously at the thought of choosing between them. Because that’s what it’d come down to, wouldn’t it? Either break Cas’s heart or Castiel’s. Well, if Cas was right about how Castiel felt.

And that was another thing what if Cas was wrong…?

“How would we even—I don’t know if you remember what you were like, but I can barely tell what he’s thinking half the time. So how do you know he’d even…?”

“Oh, he does. He would. Just like I would,” Cas said with conviction. “He betrayed everything he’s ever known for you Dean, because you make him feel things. He might’ve convinced himself that it was for humanity or some greater purpose but what it always came down to for me was Dean. Always.”

Anxiously, Dean bit his bottom lip as he considered Cas words and kept coming back to the same damn question, “Why?”

A self-deprecating smile crossed Cas’s face, “Why does anyone fall in love?”

“He doesn’t—”

“Man, I forgot how deep in denial we were back then,” Cas said dryly. “You know how you feel about him at least, right? Tell me you’re not still at the ‘he’s just my male friend that I sometimes jerk off to but that doesn’t mean anything’ stage?”

Dean’s cheeks flushed as he glared at Cas, “First off, fuck you. Second, yes I know how I feel. But he’s an _angel.”_

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been very good at being one of those.” Cas shrugged a shoulder. “Not since we met. Probably even before that.”

Defensiveness on Cas’s behalf pricked at Dean, “Not like that’s a _bad_ thing, Cas. In case you missed it, most of the other angels are dicks.”

Ruefully Cas smirked, “They really are.”

Neither of them really had a follow up to that, and they lapsed into silence. Cas laid his head back down and Dean stared up at the ceiling and thought. He tried to work out whether he could actually see this suceeding. Imagined different scenarios, and wondered if it was even possible. Things that he wanted never came easy for Dean, never lasted. But God, he hoped this would be different.

A few minutes later Dean finally remembered that he needed to bring Sam his bag, but a quick glance down at Cas, half-asleep curled up against him and Dean figured a couple more minutes wouldn’t kill him.

Besides, he was still confused and raw from his talk with Cas, from revisiting his definitions of what was acceptable in a relationship. From not being in one at all to thinking about a three-way one. It didn’t escape his attention that this had the major potential to blow up in all their faces. And that wasn’t even taking into account the whole end of the world thing.

He needed more time to think before Sam questioned the ever loving crap out of exactly what he thought he was doing. Because his first instinct was gonna be to tell Sam to mind his own damn business, but he was trying _not_ to alienate Sam even more. They needed to stick together too and all of this was gonna be a tightrope balancing act, blindfolded without a safety net.

And that _should_ have been frightening. Only it wasn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

Much later, Dean reluctantly peeled himself away from Cas with a slow kiss that breathlessly made him long for more. He glanced down at him and they shared a conspiratorial smile while they both clearly contemplated round two, but unfortunately Dean had an obligation. Cas ran gentle fingers through Dean’s hair and scratched his nails lightly over his scalp, tickled tiny shivers down Dean’s back.

“Okay,” Dean breathed drawn out with displeasure and he sighed. “We should get cleaned up and then I gotta take Sam’s bag to him.”

Thoughtfully, Cas nodded, “Try to remember that this is probably pretty shocking for him,” he helpfully said. “But he’s your brother. He’s going to have questions and if you want to keep making progress on your relationship you need to give him your trust, confide things in him. Don’t make this something he can’t discuss with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Man, when did you turn into Dr. Phil?”

With a wry smile, Cas shrugged, “You should know, I give much better advice than Dr. Phil. Probably a result of all the literature I’ve read on the human condition, interpersonal relationships and that one phase I went through about tantric sex and spirituality.”

Amusement sparkled in Dean’s eyes, “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Sam. And confide.”

As he got up, Dean faked a shudder but it was just for show. At most he was moderately uncomfortable discussing this with Sam. And that was more about the fact that he himself wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted or what was going on. Or how to explain it all, really. But he had to start somewhere with Sam and if they were gonna be brothers again, if they were gonna get back to the way things were, then Dean had to man the hell up.

“When I get back though, we’re gonna talk about that tantric phase thing,” Dean said with a smirk as he ducked into the bathroom. Cas’s laughter followed him and Dean grinned stupidly to himself as he walked over to the sink and turned on the faucets.

After he’d cleaned himself up and wet a washcloth with warm water for Cas, he brought it over to him on the bed but didn’t crawl back in. It took all the willpower he had and then some not to slip right under the warm blankets with Cas, ignore everything except for the crazy, good feelings that were building up inside of him whenever he looked at Cas. He chewed on his bottom lip as he watched Cas wipe himself down, and Cas just rolled his eyes at him.

“Go,” he said with a half-smile, “deal with your brother. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Through his lashes, Dean looked at Cas with a little uncharacteristic shyness and asked, “Promise?”

Cas huffed a sigh, “Promise.”

“Good,” Dean said just before he stole a quick kiss, warm soft lips against his quirked in an indulgent smile.

Usually Dean didn’t go in for all the sweetheart stuff, or at least that’s what he told himself, but Cas … well, Cas was always gonna be different for him, wasn’t he? It couldn’t be helped and more than that: Dean didn’t even want it to be. Sure, all of this—him, Cas, and Castiel—might end in a flaming wreck but he could already tell it’d be worth it. That he’d give anything to see Castiel with that same soft smile and fond look in his eyes, naked in his bed too.

He heaved a little rush of breath against Cas’s lips and then straightened up. Dean found the clothes he’d been wearing scattered around the room and pulled them back on. There was no use dirtying up clean ones when he still needed a shower anyway.

“Dean?” Cas asked as Dean tied up his boots. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, eyes on Cas’s face, pinched with a bit of worry.

“Just … be careful with Sam. I forgot how hard he tried. To be good, you know? How much I liked him for it. Especially once he gave in to Lucifer, it was easier to convince myself there was always something wrong with him and that’s—I can see it’s not true. So if you—if _we_ can do anything to save Sam from him, we have to,” Cas said, voice deep with emotion. “He doesn’t deserve what happens to him any more than Dean did.”

Affection for Cas nearly overwhelmed Dean in that moment. Even toward the person who’d ultimately been the vessel that was responsible for the death of someone he loved, could still potentially repeat those actions, Cas was compassionate. It was so quintessentially Cas—that ability to see the inherent good in people, that need to protect it and Dean loved him all the more for it.

That he saw Sam as a person, his own person, and not just a tool for destruction shouldn’t‘ve been a surprise. He’d definitely never indicated that he felt that way about Dean, but it knocked him on his ass a little anyway.

In the span of a breath Dean walked back over to the bed and caught Cas’s face with both hands. Thumbed over the curve of his cheekbones and kissed him like he needed him to breathe. Deeply and with every flicker of feeling that coursed through him, he said without a single word how incredible he thought Cas was, how much he needed to hear that right then.  

Because when it came down to it, Cas was right. And maybe Dean was the one who'd lost sight of that—of Sam and who he really was. Of the way that underneath all of the shitty choices and the betrayal, at his core, Sam had really thought he was doing the right thing. That he was doing the only thing he could to stop all of this and fight the destiny that was being crammed down their throats.

So maybe Dean couldn't always trust Sam to make the right decisions, to know how far was too far or when to stop, but he _could_ find a way to trust Sam again—to believe in the good in him. If Cas, who’d lost so much, who’d seen so much suffering for so long, could somehow find it in himself to want to protect Sam, then Dean could have the decency to try his damndest to save him too. Any way that he could. Just the way he was always meant to. Screw destiny, screw fate and screw dickbag angels who thought they knew what an absentee God wanted them to do.

Cas had always been the best of them and they were too damn blind to see it, but Dean wasn't. He was telling Dean that they could do this, stop this. That Sam's culpability in the events that were unfolding wasn't unforgivable, and even though Dean felt the same, a part of him had been holding onto that blame like it was all he had left. And it was killing him.

Something inside of him unknotted itself and Dean felt better than he had in way too damn long. A bizarre combination of relief and intoxicating addiction to the full lips against his and the tongue that wetly pushed it's way inside his mouth. A juxtaposition of the existential realignment he was experiencing to the immediate sensation and taste of Cas kissing him fervently back that grounded him and left him reeling at the same time.

“God, I'm so gone for you,” Dean said heatedly as he pulled away just far enough that he was able to look into Cas’s dark blue eyes and see the desire and affection there.

Cas smirked, “Some things never change I guess. In any reality that you exist in, I can expect two things to be true: That I'll always, always be there when you call and that in any shape or form you come in, I'll love you in every single one.”

Heat flooded Dean's cheeks and his heart stuttered out an erratic beat. He hardly believed what he was hearing even though Cas’d basically told him he loved him earlier. Because that was a hell of a declaration right there, and Dean wouldn't deny it warmed him all the way through. The smile on his face was probably ridiculous, but he couldn't stop it any more than he could've stopped himself from enthusiastically kissing Cas one more time before he finally grabbed Sam's bag and left the room.

Only one thing would’ve made everything absolutely perfect: If Castiel had been there too. Dean pushed down the greedy wistfulness that edged his mind. One thing at a time and right then, he had to focus on getting through his conversation with Sam.

\---

Walking up the steps outside to the motel’s second floor with Sam’s duffel in one hand, his other jammed in the pocket of his jacket, Dean tried to play out the impending talk in his head but there were too many variables to reliably guess how it was gonna go.

Sam’s reaction to the whole finding out his brother was into dudes too thing notwithstanding, there was also the whole clusterfuck of Dean being head over goddamn heels for two people. Technically you could argue they were the _same_ person, Dean petulantly thought, except they weren’t really. But fundamentally they were, if you got down to it. Which Dean figured was what’d made falling for Cas so damn easy. It was like slipping into water already heated to the perfect temperature. Comforting, simple.

At Sam’s door, Dean squared his shoulders and knocked. He didn’t give himself time to hesitate. The door swung open and Sam greeted him with a raised eyebrow and a poorly concealed smirk disguised as a bitch face. Unsettling was what that was, and Dean vainly struggled not to roll his eyes.

“Brought your bag,” Dean announced as he shoved it into Sam’s chest.

Sam’s smirk broke free of his control and widened into a grin as he took his duffel and backed up to let Dean in, “So, you and Cas, huh?”

So much for beating around the bush then, “Yeah. It’s complicated.” Dean stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He watched as Sam tossed his bag over by the TV stand and then turned around to face him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Sam said as his smile faded a little bit, the teasing expression on his face turned serious. “I’m happy for you guys, really. It’s just … I mean … What about _our_ Cas? He’s gonna be—I’ve seen the way you two look at each other....”

Defensiveness made Dean tense up, and he forced himself to relax. Sam wasn’t saying anything Dean himself hadn’t thought. He wasn't saying anything that Dean didn’t _still_ think, a bit. Although Sam _was_ taking things strangely well for someone who'd just witnessed his brother kiss another guy—a friend—out of the blue.

“Like I said, it’s complicated. But, uh,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks burned a little. “Cas thinks … Cas said … Look, I love both of ‘em, alright?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he sat down on one of the beds, “Woah. Who are you and what’ve you done with my brother? Y’know, the guy who looks just like you but who’s completely cut off emotionally?”

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled as he followed suit and dropped into one of the chairs at the table by the window, cheeks still burning with his admission. “Cas said I should open up to you about this crap.”

That startled a laugh out of Sam, “Sounds like Cas’s said a lot of things. Not that I think he’s wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean said. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You’re taking this way too well.”

Sam’s grin widened, “Am I supposed to be surprised? I have _eyes_ Dean. First of all, I’ve known since you were sixteen that you swung both ways. I was just waiting for you to bring it up on your own. Kinda offended that it took Cas kissing you in front of me for you to come out though, dude.”

“You—what? I—”

All this time, Sam already knew? The fuck?

“Yeah, man. You’re not exactly subtle with your elevator looks and flirting, you know that right? Or those times you disappeared into the bathroom for like fifteen minutes at a bar right after some other guy you were talking to? You do know I’m not stupid, don’t you?” Sam said with way more amusement than was called for, in Dean’s opinion.

“Shut up.” Dean disagreed on principle, “I was totally discreet.”

The flat look Sam gave him at that said the opposite was, in fact, true. “And secondly, you’ve only been looking all longingly at our Cas for basically as long as we’ve known him. Kinda hard not to notice. You could cut the tension between you with a knife.”

Dean flapped a hand at Sam, embarrassed, “Well that’s just—”

“True? Undeniable? Completely factual information?” Sam supplied with a knowing smirk.

Fucking little brothers who thought they were so damn clever. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath to calm his irritation. There was a reason he didn’t talk about this shit. He was bad at talking about it. He was bad at keeping his emotions under control when he had to discuss them.

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Dean mumbled with just a hint of the annoyance he felt. “You saw it coming. Good for you.”

“Thanks,” Sam said with a truly obnoxious patented kid brother smile. “So you still didn’t answer my question about our Cas. You just said you’re in love with both of them.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered if Sam really wanted him to spell out all of the details. Because to be completely honest, even Dean didn’t have all the details straightened out in his head. He just knew he needed both of them. Whatever morality he might’ve possessed that would’ve argued against three people being in a relationship hadn’t lasted long in the face of Cas’s wholehearted support of it. Besides, it wasn’t anyone’s business except theirs.

Only, the same bit of Dean that’d never come out to anyone shied away from telling Sam about this now. Sam’s eyes, when Dean met them were soft with curiosity. No judgement in them. And Dean knew there never would be, but it was hard to get himself to say it all out loud. Hard was never something that scared Dean though—hard was a drop in the bucket compared to the shit Dean’d been through. So he pushed away his discomfort and manned up.

“I am,” he said steadily, “Maybe it’s selfish or something, but I want them both.”

Sam’s head tilted a little, like he was considering what Dean said, “Do they know that?”

“Cas does—future Cas. Fuck. This is complicated.” Dean chuckled awkwardly and Sam echoed it. “He … uh, thinks our Cas would be on board too.”

“So, the three of you?” Sam said neutrally, like he was being extra careful not to say anything that’d set Dean on the defensive.

Nervously, Dean chewed his lip as he nodded. “I can’t help the way I’m drawn to them.” Dean shrugged an unapologetic shoulder. “Both of them.”

For a second, Sam didn’t say anything and Dean’s stomach dropped a little. He’d expected some kind of reaction from Sam. Good or bad—just something and then, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean incredulously repeated.

“Yeah, Dean. Okay. If it works for you guys, then it works,” Sam said fondly.

“That’s it?”

Sam sighed, “That’s it.”

“It doesn’t like, weird you out at all?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” Sam answered with a shrug, “Why would it weird me out that my brother’s in love with a couple of angels who happen to be sort of the same person from different timelines? Or dimensions? Or wherever the heck future Cas came from?”

“Man, don’t that just sum up our lives,” Dean said sarcastically. “That the only complaint I could come up with about what just came out of your mouth was that one of ‘em technically ain’t an angel anymore.”

Sam laughed and it was infectious. It felt nice to have the weight of this off of his shoulders, felt good to talk to Sam, to laugh with him. Like they were bonding over the insane state of their lives and when any of it had come to seem normal. Dean was just glad Sam got it, or wasn’t bothered by it. He was glad that he’d let Cas talk him into explaining things to Sam.

Because this right here, the two of them in Sam’s crappy motel room, laughing over this shit? It felt natural. It felt a lot like getting his brother back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's taken a while to get the latest chapter up. My life's been kind of a mess. Long story short, my husband lost his job, got offered a new one in another province and now we're frantically scrambling to pack. So I've been pretty busy. Haha. 
> 
> On top of that, I was working on an original novel which I published (come check me out on tumblr [@adlawless](http://adlawless.tumblr.com) if you're interested in learning more about it or what I'm currently working on).
> 
> So, all that to say, the next update might take a while too, unfortunately. Everything's up in the air about where we'll be living and how we're getting our stuff there, so I'm a big ball of stress, which isn't entirely conducive to writing. Plus, to make matters crappier, my laptop died on me which means I'm writing on an old tablet. 
> 
> But there's a bright spot; I love this fic, and these characters and I promise this story isn't and won't be abandoned. I just don't want to make you promises I might not be able to keep for the next update's timeline. 
> 
> Thanks again for all your support and wonderful comments and I promise I'll get to the next chapter as soon as I'm able to.


	6. Chapter 6

It was in the middle of dealing with the Antichrist kid, Jesse, when they finally saw Castiel again. Things were awkward as fuck thanks to the frosty way that Castiel barely looked at him and Cas. Dean wished they had time to work it out, but shit was going down. Then just like that Castiel'd vanished to get rid of the kid and Dean was pissed right the hell off.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean half-shouted as he turned to face him. “You couldn’t‘ve, I don’t know, _warned_ us he was gonna disappear to try and take out the kid?”

The sarcastic way Cas raised his eyebrow was instantly reminiscent of Castiel, “I hate to break it to you, _Dean,_ but this timeline? Is drastically different than mine thanks to someone bringing me back through time and simultaneously skewing events by bringing Sam back into the fold. So _sorry_ that I'm unable to accurately predict my alternate self’s future actions, of which I have no prior knowledge. For your information by the time we discovered Jesse existed, he was much older and he didn't _choose a side.”_

“What d’you mean he didn't choose?” Dean demanded as he geared up to go after Castiel.

“I mean he took off. None of us saw him again.” Cas shrugged. “Kinda hard to sell risking his life to save the world when the kid's parents were already Croats and the world was shit.”

Chastened, Dean blew out a sigh. Regret over snapping at Cas was already settling in and he mumbled a quiet, “Sorry.”

“What was that?” Cas asked, blue eyes flat, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Were you trying to apologize or was that one of those cute little baby kitten sneezes you make?”

Dean glared, but he sucked up his pride and said, “Sorry, Cas. I … uh, shouldn't've yelled at you like that.”

Sam's brows were raised, but he wisely kept his mouth shut at the exchange. For which, Dean was glad. It was bad enough that he was apologizing with an audience, even worse that it was his own brother. Sam was probably the one other person in the world who got how big a deal that was.

A smirk tugged up the corner of Cas’s lips, “I could get used to this dynamic. Definitely should've—” Cas cut himself off with a wince and cleared his throat, glanced between Sam and Dean. “We need to go after him and stop him. There’s less than a zero percent chance that he’ll get the drop on Jesse. Even Dean and I didn't. Winged or not, Jesse's way out of my league.”

“Alright,” Sam said, determined as ever. “let's go save Cas.”

“And maybe try and convince Jesse to be on our side.” There went Cas’s eyebrow again at Dean's words. “I know, but his parents are still alive right now, right? He's got something to fight for. We can use that. Get him to protect that.”

“Maybe,” Cas conceded.

“Worth a shot,” Sam offered thoughtfully.

“Damn right,” Dean declared as he tossed Cas the keys to the Impala, “Go stock up, whatever you need. And yes, I know you're already packin’, but there might be something useful in the trunk you ain't got if things go south.”

Once Cas was out through the door, Dean turned to Sam. “Listen, him and me … after we sort this stuff out with the kid, we gotta talk to Cas.”

“Ya think?” Sam asked archly. “I dunno what the hell happened with you guys, but Cas was pissed. Pretty sure if looks could kill, you'd both be corpses, man.”

Dean debated whether that was an invitation to unload or a directive to fix this, “He mighta … popped in on us? And, uh, I think he's jealous. Wasn't answering my calls.”

Sam scrubbed a hand over his eyes, “I'm pointedly  _not_ gonna think about what you just said. Fix things with him, Dean. You clearly hurt his feelings.”

“Yeah, I got that genius,” Dean replied caustically. The glare Sam levelled at him was well deserved. Even Dean knew that. “I just wanted to warn you that we're gonna try and get him to stick around after. Long enough to talk at least.”  

“Okay … well, good,” Sam replied as he ran a hand through his hair. “I'll … wait in the Impala I guess? Give you guys some space?”

Relieved, Dean nodded appreciatively, “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You owe me,” Sam grumbled with a little smirk.

“Sure. Mammoth sized salad and a gross ass green smoothie on me next place we stop at.” Dean grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, “Doesn't really count as 'on you’ when you're paying via credit card fraud, dude.”

“Sure it does. I worked hard to defraud that credit company. It's practically honest pay,” Dean said as he followed Sam out and locked up behind them.

Sam's chuckle echoed in the empty parking lot and Dean tried to let the familiar sound of it soothe the nerves that were twisting up his stomach. They might need to talk to Castiel about shit, and Dean might be sort of prepared for the optimistic results of that conversation but he still had to live through it. Castiel's bout of jealousy pretty much told Dean everything he really needed to know about how Castiel felt for him, so he wasn't all that worried about that part. It was the outcome that had him concerned.

Just because he knew Castiel had feelings for him, didn't mean he was gonna be on board with the whole me plus you and you thing Dean was hoping for. And if he wasn't … well, there was a reason why ninety-nine percent of the time Dean preferred denial and alcohol to actually dealing with things outright.

He climbed in the car and gunned the engine, turned off the part of himself that was freaking out over this, and forced himself calm. The last thing he needed was to be distracted, get someone hurt because he was busy thinking about his love life.

\---

Later, after the demon was gone, Jesse's goodbye to his parents had dragged on a little too long. Sam, Cas and Dean stomped up the stairs in a rush, and found Jesse's room empty. It was obvious he wasn't there even before Castiel suddenly appeared behind them, apparently no longer stuck as an action figure. Thank fuck, because Dean'd been about a second away from losing it over that on top of everything else.

Castiel informed them the kid was gone and he didn't know where to. With Jesse's powers there was no way to find him. And after Sam read the note they'd found on the kid's bed, about protecting his parents, Dean couldn't actually find it in himself to blame Jesse. Sure, he would've made a hell of an ally, but Dean understood his decision. Even if they really needed a win about then.

Before Castiel had a chance to take off, Dean shot Sam a look that Castiel tilted his head at, confusion pinching his brows as he watched them. Sam nodded in understanding and headed for the door.

“Sam?” Castiel asked as he brushed past.

Over his shoulder, Sam glanced back and said, “Uh, just need some air.”

“Dean?” Castiel asked, blue eyes on him now that Sam’d disappeared.

Uncomfortably, Dean cleared his throat, glanced over at Cas, “Yeah, listen … There’s—we gotta—Cas, I.…”

Helplessly, Dean tried to organize his thoughts better but Castiel just backed up a few steps as he looked between Dean and Cas. Understanding flashed over his face before it went back to that neutral expression that he wore like a mask of indifference.

“There’s no need to harm yourself in your attempt to explain, Dean,” Castiel said flatly, eyes on a point over Dean’s shoulder. “We both know I witnessed enough that I came to the correct conclusion regarding the state of your … relationship.”

Shit, “I know but I just—”

Like cold daggers, Castiel’s eyes found Dean’s again, “I appreciate your desire to discuss your motivations or offer excuses, but there’s no need. I’m fully aware of the plentiful reasons that you would have chosen him over me.”

“No, Cas. That’s not—”

“Enough, Dean. Do you think I enjoy this?” Castiel asked as anger crept onto his face. “It’s hard enough to—I need to go.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cas exclaimed and both Dean and Castiel’s attention snapped to him. “What Dean’s _trying_ to get out, if you’d let him talk, is that he _wants_ you, jackass.”

Heat flooded Dean’s cheeks when Castiel’s eyes locked on his again, confusion reignited in them. “I don’t understand. I saw.…”

“He wants us _both.”_

Castiel’s eyes widened, “Dean?”

And shit, this was where he was supposed to say something, tell Castiel how he felt but his throat wouldn’t function and all he managed was a nod and a hard swallow. So much for confessing and somehow winning Castiel over ‘cause Dean had nothing. Nothing except the trillion thoughts flying at lightspeed through his head that he wasn't able slow down long enough to parse let alone speak. Only, he needed to. Castiel was looking more confused by the second, getting that pinched expression that usually preceded a disappearing act so Dean was out of time.

“Cas, wait. I … uh, he’s right.” Dean’s shoulders squared and he straightened up a bit, one way or another it was time to face up to his feelings. “I don’t know why the hell I never got around to sayin’ somethin’ before.” Castiel raised that damn eyebrow and Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I _know_ why. It’s not the point though. Point is, I’ve wanted you … _loved_ you for so long now that I can’t even remember how I functioned before feeling like that was part of me. It’s like … this whole time, everything was leading me to you. Just you.”

Dean’s little speech seemed to have the opposite effect of the one he’d intended, the confused lines in Castiel’s face deepened, “Then why?” his gaze flicked to Cas and Dean couldn’t help the lopsided smile that tugged up the corners of his lips.

“Because he’s you, too. How could I not love him?” Dean admitted, voice soft and warm in a way he was a little embarrassed about.

“We’re not the same person,” Castiel replied with a frown.

“‘Course you’re not,” Dean said tentative smile growing a little more. “Might not be smart but I’m not _that_ stupid. I know you’re different. You might’ve started off the same, but there's enough difference between you that I can seperate how I feel. And how I feel is pretty simple, turns out.”

Castiel’s head tilted again, like he still didn't get it so Dean sighed, “I love you. Every flavor you come in apparently.” Dean added a wink for levity and Cas chuckled but Castiel remained frozen. Fuck. Dean didn't know how else to make what he wanted clear or if Castiel already understood and hated him for it.

Again, Cas took up the slack, steadily advanced on Castiel, who watched him warily. He walked around until he was behind Castiel and the tense set of Castiel's shoulders betrayed how uncomfortable he was with Cas at his back.

 

At least until he leaned closer, lips right up next to Castiel’s ear and whispered, “Here's the thing: I know you pretty well. Right about now you've got about a million synapses all firing off and a rush of emotion coursing through you stronger than anything you've ever let through from your vessel before because you can't stop it.”

Castiel took a shuddering breath in as Cas paused for a second, “Now not a lot of things scare you. But that feeling? For him? Terrifying. Because you think it's gonna swallow you whole, until there's nothing left of you before him and you know what? It's true. There won't be. But here's a little secret: You won't _want_ there to be. Dean is _everything_ for us. Beginning, middle, end, it's all him. So, I threw a kink into the mix, can you blame me? Could you see him in another universe and _not_ love him too?”

Dean held his breath in the long pause before Castiel spoke. His pulse pounded loud and jackrabbit fast.

Almost grudgingly Castiel said, “No.”

Deliberately Cas’s lips skimmed the shell of Castiel's ear, breathed a hot puff of air that resulted in a flush of pink across Castiel's cheeks. Dean's dick was half hard so fast he almost groaned out loud.

“So let us show you how good this could be. You,” Cas grazed his teeth down the line of Castiel's ear, “him,” sucked Castiel's earlobe into his mouth and scraped his teeth over it, “and me.”

Minutely, Castiel trembled, eyes on Dean's the whole time. Like that was his cue, Dean finally moved to action, crowded up into Castiel's space and said, “Whaddya say Cas?”

Intense and scrutinizing, Cas's gaze flickered between each of Dean's eyes, like he was trying to see so deep inside Dean that he'd lose himself there. Whatever he found must've been enough because he swayed forward into Dean and crushed their mouths together. Inexperienced and hot.

One of Castiel’s hands gripped Dean’s bicep and the other settled heavy on the side of his neck. It felt like Dean’s stomach did a thousand backflips and all the anxiety that’d been building up in him puffed out of existence at the first press of Castiel’s tongue into his mouth and escaped on a sigh when he finally pulled back enough to look into Castiel’s awed blue eyes.

“Take it that was a yes,” Dean said, a cocky smile he only sort of felt on his lips.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, and leaned in again. He sealed his single word with another kiss, more frantic this time.

Caught up in the way Castiel kissed like he was trying to memorize every second of it, the full body way he pressed into Dean and how as soon as he figured out how to do it, he took control, Dean forgot anything else. He just rocked his hips against Castiel and taught him how good that felt too.

“Not that this isn’t super hot,” Cas finally interrupted. “‘Cause it _really_ is, but this’s probably not the place to do this. And, not to be a boner killer Dean, but Sam’s waiting in the car and you have the keys. Which means we can’t just pop out of here.”

“Fuck,” Dean grumbled, reluctantly peeling himself away from Castiel’s lips. He didn't miss the shine of saliva and faint bruises on the side of Castiel's neck where apparently Cas’d gone to town. He closed his eyes and took a few steadying deep breaths, then adjusted himself with a soft groan. “Okay, hold that thought, Cas. After we drop Sam off, we’ll find a place to … well … uh, if you wanna, I mean?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel replied, voice low and scratchy in a way that sent a throb of heat right to Dean’s dick. Unfortunate, since he was trying to will _away_ his hard on.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Cas said with a devious little smirk and Dean couldn’t help but agree.

Honestly Dean was still in goddamn shock that any of this was happening. So when he led the two of them to the car, tension so thick it was practically visible between them, he was almost vibrating with how much he couldn’t wait to _show_ Cas exactly how he felt about him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I know it's been a while on this one. I'll be honest, I have an ending planned, it's just getting to that ending that I'm still figuring out and since that involves a lot of rewatching season 5 it's been a slow process. But it's shaping up, so yay! 
> 
> Can't guarantee when you'll see the next chapter though. November is a crazy month for me, I'm participating in Nanowrimo with an original novel I'm gonna start working on and at the same time I'm working with a really cool artist on a Destiel longfic that I'm preeeettty sure will blow you away. 
> 
> I'm gonna do my best to get this fic done as soon as I can though and thank you to everyone who's been patiently reading along. Your comments and encouragement always mean so, so much to me. Xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme just start this note by saying, "My bad." ;) I somehow totally forgot I left this fic off right before the sexy fun times and Not at a plot-heavy chapter... somehow. Haha. Good news is I've mostly worked out how I want to get from here to the end I have in mind, so with any luck, the next update shouldn't take quite as long as this one. P.S. ily. <3

The drive back to the motel was one part awkward, two parts hot as hell. Awkward was Sam curled up in the passenger seat and staring out the window like he was trying to distance himself as much as possible from everything else going on in the car, and Dean didn't really blame him.

He'd already cranked the music up to drown out anything happening in the backseat, for Sam's benefit of course, but his eyes kept catching little flashes of Cas all up in Castiel's space in the rearview. Whispering something in Castiel's ear that had his eyes glazed and locked on Dean's face in the mirror.

It was dark out so he couldn't see much other than that except for brief moments lit up by streetlights when he caught snippets of Cas's palm on Castiel's crotch, his chest, rubbing along his thighs. Castiel’s lips parted in mostly silent pleasure.

Dean’d never been a more confusing mess of turned on and embarrassed in his life, but Cas working Castiel up in the backseat was something that was impossible _not_ to get hard over. So, like Sam, he pretended his brother wasn't sitting on the other half of the bench seat, and he broke every speed limit posted on the way back to the motel.

The tires squealed a little when Dean swerved into the parking lot, and as soon as he put the car in park Sam was out the door.

“Wait here,” Dean told Cas and Castiel, firm look, one finger pointed at Cas that he followed up with, “Stay in the car and don't get him in trouble. I'll just be a minute.”

Getting their stuff from the room was double awkward. Sam had his headphones on, this squinty look on his face that Dean assumed meant that he was trying and failing to think about something other than the fact that he'd been stuck in a car with all of them and their pent-up tension. He'd get over it. Or Dean would find a way to make it up to him. Later.

A quick trip into the office at the front of the motel, and Dean walked back to the car with another set of keys for a room on the opposite side of the hotel to where Sam was holed up. Honestly, Sam'd probably heard worse, but common courtesy said if you were gonna have a threesome in the same paper thin walls no-tell motel as your brother, you gave him as much breathing room as you could.

The windows were fogged up when he got there and Dean rolled his eyes as he rapped his knuckles on the roof. A hand smudged away the fog and Dean glared at Cas's disheveled appearance as he pressed up close to the glass and looked up at him with a smirk on his face and a shrug of his shoulder. Smug fucker. Dean was gonna have to Windex that glass later.

He opened the door and Cas got out. He pulled Castiel along with him, fingers interlaced and yeah, Dean was all kinds of fucked. Because even something as innocent as the two of them holding hands apparently turned his crank. His dick pressed insistently at the zipper of his jeans and they needed to be in their room _now._

“C'mon,” he said as he closed the door behind them and quickly locked the car. He couldn't resist kissing each of them quick and dirty before he dragged himself away and led them to room two-twenty-eight.

Inside they found a single king size bed, just like Dean'd requested. Lamps on both sides of the bed lit up when Dean flicked the lightswitch and stepped all the way through the door. He dropped his and Cas's duffle bags next to the bed, then did a quick check of the bathroom out of habit to make sure that the room was clear.

He grabbed the stuff he needed from his bag to secure their room because he'd be damned if anything supernatural was gonna get in the way of this now. The sound of rustling clothes, whispers, and wet kissing noises from the bed was just un-goddamn-fair. Dean was so hard it was fucking ridiculous, but he had to make them safe before he could even think about taking care of it. Of them.

Salt lines on doors and windows, quick couple of wards, and yeah, good enough, because the guttural moan one of them had let out sent a spike of lust through his veins. He spun around and found Castiel laid out on the bed like a goddamn present, shirt half unbuttoned and trenchcoat spread across the bed beneath them—his tie tugged even sloppier than usual. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were shiny wet and swollen, his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths while Cas rubbed his palm over the obscene tent in his pants.

All stretched out against his side, one leg tangled over Castiel's muscled thigh, Cas looked over his shoulder and shot Dean a dark grin. Arousal pulsed in Dean's gut, reminding him of the ache in his jeans and he palmed at it absently as he stalked toward them. About a million scenarios for how he wanted this to go flitted through his mind in the span of seconds, but his brain pretty much flatlined when Cas looked back at Castiel and said, “Let's make this good for him, Dean. He's waited so patiently for you, why don't we take care of him?”

Castiel glanced between them, he already looked half-wild and ready to go off any second. His eyes were wide, so blue and trusting. Something scorching twisted in Dean's gut when perfect white teeth dug into his full pink bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Dean said as he crawled on the bed. He laid himself out next to Castiel. “Yeah, we can do that. That what you want too, Cas?”

At Castiel's nod, Dean smirked, curled his upper body over him and cupped the side of his neck, brushing his thumb over Cas's jaw, “Gotta use your words for us, Cas, okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispered roughly. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I can … I can do that.”

“Good,” Cas practically purred as he slowly unbuttoned Castiel's shirt. “We're gonna show you just how good we can make you feel. Isn't that right, Dean?”

“Damn right,” Dean growled, just before he gave into the tug of Castiel's hand on the back of his neck and finally kissed him. A soft press of their mouths together, and then he skimmed his tongue over Castiel's wide lips, traced them before he licked inside.

Hot and slick and heady, Cas must’ve taught him some tricks while they were waiting for Dean because he definitely hadn't been this sure of himself earlier. Now though, now he confidently sucked Dean's tongue into his mouth, swirling his own around it and fuck, that felt so damn good.

For long, long moments they kissed and ran their hands over each other, exploring while Cas diligently undressed them, only broke apart for seconds when Cas pulled Dean's shirt off. He peppered the skin he bared with kisses and heated passes of his tongue and scrapes of his teeth. Before Dean knew it, Cas had them all down to underwear. Castiel in white boxers that looked so goddamn innocent against his tanned skin, wet patch on the front where his hard dick had leaked into the fabric.

Cas was wearing a hand-me-down pair of Dean's black boxer-briefs that matched the ones Dean himself had on and he had the brief thought that he should really take Cas shopping and get him his own clothes. Then again, he thought as he watched Cas rub himself through his underwear, that'd mean Cas wouldn't be wearing _his_ clothes anymore, and Dean was man enough to admit he had a really fuckin’ big thing for Cas in his clothes.

It took Dean a moment to remember that they were supposed to be focusing on Castiel, but he remembered real damn fast when Cas slid his hands up Castiel's thighs, parted them wide, one up over Dean's hip. Reflexively, Dean reached down and held it there, broad hand spreading out over the soft skin of Castiel's inner thigh. He looked down Castiel's body and watched as Cas mouthed over the hard hard line of Castiel's cock. Got the front of his boxers sloppy wet with open mouthed kisses that made Castiel's hips hitch and wriggle as he instinctively searched for more.

Eager to get in on the action, Dean sucked a path down Castiel's neck, pausing and paying special attention to places that caused Castiel to moan and arch his back. Slowly, he made his way lower and dragged his teeth along Castiel's collarbone. He kissed and sucked at his dusky pink nipples until they were red and puffy, and Castiel's hand was buried in his hair, grip tight.

Randomly, Dean pressed hot, sucking kisses over Castiel's torso, nipped at his belly button and licked along his hip bone. The clean taste of Castiel's perspiration-free skin so different from Cas's, but just as good. Just as hot.

When he finally got down to where Cas was, he found that Cas’d already stripped away Castiel's boxers and was sinking his mouth down around Castiel's flushed-dark perfect cock. A shock of arousal curled in Dean's gut and his dick jerked in sympathy. He vividly remembered the feeling of those beautiful lips stretched wide around him, wet and silky.

Dean's hand slid firmly over the cut of Castiel's hip, down, cupped and played with his balls while he sucked hickies into his inner thigh. Beneath them, Castiel was shuddering, shaking and moaning. He gave up these soft little grunts and gasps that were like oil to the fire in Dean's veins. It just added to the wet sounds of suction from Cas’s lips around Castiel's dick, sucking him off, pleased moans around hard flesh.

Suddenly too constricted, Dean kneeled up, pushed his own boxer-briefs down to his knees and groaned at the wet slap of his cock against his belly—so fucking hard for them. He struggled the rest of the way out of his underwear and tossed them onto the floor before he crawled back up the bed. Castiel's head was thrown back and his eyes were squeezed shut, face pink, lips glossy and bitten dark. Something in Dean's gut flared white hot and he slid his hand along the stubble-rough line of Castiel's jaw, sandpaper tingles travelling up his fingertips and down his spine.

His index and middle fingers trapped Castiel's earlobe, teased at it while his thumb caressed Castiel's cheek, drew his attention.

“Look at me, angel,” Dean demanded and both Castiel and Cas groaned. “Want those eyes open. Wanna know you know exactly who's taking you apart like this. Won't ever want anyone else when we're done with you.”

“Never,” Castiel gasped, voice raw as his eyes fluttered open and found Dean's. “Never wanted anyone else, anyway.” He groaned low as Cas slowed down, sucked him in hard long pulls.

“Good,” Dean murmured, kissing Castiel again, dirty flicks and rolls of his tongue that Castiel frantically returned.

Right when Castiel's body started to stiffen up, Cas pulled off. And Christ, the whimper Castiel let out at that was gonna be on permanent replay when Dean jerked off from now on. This desperate, needy thing that made Dean wanna give him whatever he wanted. But he knew it would be so much better, would feel so much better if they edged him a little. It almost seemed cruel, but the little grin Cas shot over at him when he curled up on Castiel's other side again reminded Dean that he knew just how much Castiel could take.

“Like that?” Cas asked against Castiel's ear. A little shiver worked its way through Castiel's body and Dean bit down on his own bottom lip in response, wrapping his fingers nice and slow around Castiel's sopping wet dick but he didn't move. Cas's fingertips trailed along Castiel's neck, featherlight, grazing along his collarbone, one and then the other and Castiel's hips restlessly fucked up into Dean's fist. Sexy little thrusts like he couldn't help it.

“Yes,” Castiel whispered, eyes half-shut, he seemed totally lost in the sensations that were coursing through his body. Virgin sensitive, trembling for them. “It feels … ah,” he pushed up harder into Dean's hand as Castiel sucked at the spot just under his ear. “So—hnh. Ah … good.”

The wrecked sound of Castiel's voice traveled straight down to Dean's aching dick. “God, you're so fucking hot.” Dean's eyes flicked to where Cas was sucking along Castiel's jaw, nipped at his chin. “Both of you.”

Cas's mouth ticked up in a smirk right before he claimed Castiel's lips with his, pink flashes of tongue and soft moans that were so damn sexy. For a few seconds Dean just watched from up close, let Castiel keep fucking up into the circle of his fingers and then he let go. Watched the way Castiel clutched frantically at Cas—brokenly moaned low into his mouth and swiveled his hips in the air, chasing pressure and friction that weren't there anymore. Hot as fucking hell and Dean was so turned on that he could hardly think.

Somehow Dean found himself between Castiel's spread legs, the hot hard length of him right in front of his face. His breath puffed over the head of Castiel's cock and it jerked. An intoxicating feeling of power rushed over Dean, because he didn't even have to _touch_ Castiel to get a reaction out of him. The little whine that came from the back of Castiel's throat was enough to spur Dean to action, though.

They'd strung him out long enough, Castiel deserved to come. He didn't waste any time licking at him or teasing him, just sank down all the way around him. Blessing of a lot of practice lately with Cas. Up and down, hot suction and the firm pressure of his tongue against the underside. He took Castiel into his throat, swallowing around him, over and over. The taste of Castiel tangy and musky in his mouth, and Dean moaned shamelessly at it. Fuck, he loved this feeling, and he loved the shallow little twitches of Castiel's hips up into his mouth like he couldn't keep himself still.

And over it all, the sound of them kissing, the muffled groans and whimpers that Castiel didn't even know to try holding back filled Dean's ears until he had to reach down between his legs and squeeze his own throbbing dick for some kind of relief.

It didn't take long for Castiel's body to freeze up again, hips suddenly stilled, and Dean redoubled his efforts, sucking harder and faster. And then all of a sudden Castiel’s hand was in his hair holding him close as he came in hot, shuddering spurts down Dean's throat. Iron grip that held him there unable to breathe until the last of it spilled from him and he tugged Dean off. And fuck, Dean hadn't thought he could get harder than he already was, but now he was so stiff it goddamn _hurt._

He shifted back up beside Castiel, unconsciously rubbed himself against Castiel's hip as he and Cas traded Castiel for soft, lazy kisses while he floated in his afterglow. Castiel's whole body was pliant for them. He seemed blissed out, barely cognizant. As soon as he recovered though it was a whole other story.

“My turn," he informed them, voice barely more than a growl as he manhandled Dean to lie down next to Cas. Castiel wound up straddled over Cas's left leg and Dean's right while he took turns exploring their skin with his tongue and teeth, his firm pink lips. His hands everywhere, in their hair and over their bodies. Each sensitive spot thoroughly investigated with his undivided attention.

Hot, so damn hot, and he seemed to know just where and when each of them needed him most as he worked his way down their throats, switched from sucking and biting at Cas's nipple to Dean's and pleasure shot electric right to his leaking dick. Down, down, Castiel moved, kisses sucked into the skin of their stomachs. Licked over the puddle of arousal Dean had smeared below his belly button and hummed at the taste.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groaned, shallow breaths stuttered in his chest as Castiel got closer and closer to his dick. An embarrassing little whimper escaped his throat when Castiel switched over to Cas instead, sucking along the cut of his hip.

“Remember what I told you in the car?” Cas asked as he carded his hands through Castiel's already messed up hair.

Intense blue eyes gazed at each other and Dean might cream himself just from watching the two of them. “No teeth. And even though it's called a blowjob you suck.” Castiel's eyes flicked over to Dean's then, this little frown pinched between his brows. “It should be called a suckjob, then.”

Dean grimaced at that, because no. No it shouldn't, but Cas just chuckled, wide, fond grin on his face as he looked at Castiel and Dean would've paid big bucks to know just what he was thinking then, but he didn't get a chance to find out.

“Why don't you show Dean some of the things we talked about? Hmm?” Cas asked, smile flashed at Dean that said he was in for so much more than he would've expected.

Castiel nodded and settled between Dean's legs, nosing up the inside of his thigh and licking up the crease of his groin. And then just as he sucked one of Dean's balls into the heat of his mouth, Cas pinched Dean's nipple, rolled it between his fingers, the combination made him squirm restlessly, body humming with pleasure. When Castiel released him and sucked the other one in, tongued gently around it, Cas switched sides too, and Dean panted with it.

Silky and hot, Castiel shifted and mouthed at the base of Dean's dick. He placed slow wet kisses all the way up to the tip. His big hand closed around the base of Dean's dick and he licked over the head, quick little flicks of his tongue that lit Dean’s nerves up with pleasure.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. He ran his hand over Castiel's shoulder and neck, thumbed over the curve of his cheek just before Castiel finally sucked him down as far as he could. Got him spit wet and used his hand to stroke what he couldn't get in his mouth. “Cas.”

Already so fucking close it was crazy, Dean's breaths came faster. Castiel might not be experienced, but whatever Cas’d told him was fuckin' working for him. Suction just right and his mouth flooded with saliva—felt so, so good. Somehow Dean managed to gather enough brain cells to remember that Cas was probably just as ready to go off as he was and he tilted his head, caught Cas's lips in a messy kiss.

He reached over and snugged his hand around Cas's cock. He did his best to concentrate on jerking Cas off, on making him feel as good as Castiel was making Dean feel. 

Between his legs, Castiel was fuckin’ blowing him like a goddamn pro, he'd built up to a pace that made Dean's toes curl and his muscles strain with the effort not to fuck into all that heat. Then the thumb of Castiel’s free hand traced a steady-sure path from behind his balls and back further. Brushed dry teasing circles over his puckered rim and Dean was so close. Endless pleasured noises passed from his lips into Cas's mouth as their tongues slid together, as they sucked at each other's lips.

All it took was a bit of firm pressure from Castiel's thumb, just barely dipped inside of him and then Dean’s body spasmed with euphoric pleasure that crested in heated shocks. That made spots dance behind his closed eyelids as he moaned loud and long, noise swallowed up by Cas.

Faintly, he felt Cas's fingers close over his on his cock as he used them to jerk himself off. Few hard fast strokes, then he pulsed in Dean's hand and Dean was the one swallowing Cas's moans. So fucking sexy that he twitched still buried inside Castiel's mouth.

When he slowly drifted back down from the aftershocks of his climax, Castiel was still suckling gently at his softening cock and Dean winced. He reached down and tugged him up, made a space for Castiel in between him and Cas so they could all share soothing touches and sated kisses in their afterglows.

It took a long time for them to come all the way back to themselves after the intensity of that, but eventually their breathing slowed and their skin cooled. Dean made a quick trip to the bathroom, wet a warm washcloth and grabbed a towel. Cleaned them all up while Cas and Castiel laid pressed up next to each other, matching satisfied smiles on their faces that swelled warmth in Dean's chest. Acutely, he felt just how much he loved them both as he took his spot next to Castiel.

“So,” Cas finally broke the comfortable silence, “How'd you enjoy your first sexual encounter, Castiel?”

To be honest, Castiel still looked a little out of it to Dean, but his lips quirked up in a tiny smile and he said, “It was—for lack of a better term—awesome.”

Both Dean and Cas chuckled at that. “Good,” Dean said. “'Cause I'm not gonna lie, I got _so_ many plans for next time.” His cheeks heated and he rushed to add on, “If, uh, you both even want to—”

“We do,” Castiel cut him off with an affectionate glance.

“Obviously,” Cas said, amusement in his voice. “You, me, and me are hot as hell. We're definitely doing that again.”

“Good,” Dean repeated. He heaved a little relieved sigh and then relaxed against Castiel, tightened his grip over Cas's waist.

“Can we shut up and just bask a bit, now?” Cas asked at the tail end of a yawn. “We can figure it all out tomorrow.”

Dean glanced from Cas to Castiel, a frown just starting to form on his lips as he said, “Unless you got some place to be, Cas? I know you don't, uh, sleep … so.…”

“I'll stay,” Castiel said decisively. “Watch over you. I assume it's no longer considered 'creepy’?”

Weird thing was, and Dean was probably never gonna admit it, but he'd never actually found it that creepy in the first place. He just needed to keep Castiel from witnessing anything incriminating he might’ve said in his sleep. Needed to distance him before he said something they'd both regret.

“He's always liked us watching over him,” Cas mumbled sleepily, head pillowed on Castiel's chest. “Used to make him feel safe.”

Dean's face flamed and he avoided Castiel's eyes but he didn't deny it. He just shifted down and mirrored Cas's position, grabbed at the throw that lay across the bottom of the bed with his toes, stretching his arm down until he could pull it over them. His heart ached a little when he realized that Other him must’ve told Cas that, and he reached for Cas's hand on Castiel's chest. Intertwined their fingers and gave him a comforting squeeze. Cas squeezed back and Dean shut his eyes.

They could deal with whatever needed to be dealt with between them tomorrow. Right now was for enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies, the soothing pattern of Castiel's heartbeat thumping under their ears and the rhythmic motion of his breathing. It was just for being there, all of them together, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you love this fic as much as I do, please let me know. <3 This is probably one of my most in-depth works because it requires a lot of rewatching season 5 lol, and so it means that it takes a little extra motivation for me to crank out chapters for it. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! *chuckles nervously* I know it's been a while. *Holds palms out soothingly* But, uh, I'm back on this. I finished figuring out exactly what episodes need to be covered and got my chapter notes all sorted. So from here on out I should be a little more regular. Hopefully. ;) 
> 
> I'm gonna add it to the tags, but there's a bit of panty/lingerie kink on Dean's part in the beginning of this so be forewarned. Although, I think we all know to expect panty kink in an endverse based fic. ;) 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy. <3

The room was just a little gaudy and a lot ornate. Dark and lit with red shaded lamps that made everything sexy, mysterious. The kind of strip joint Dean’d only ever seen in movies. Way out of his usual price range. He blinked a couple of times when the stripper slinked out onto the stage right in front of him. Cas in a pair of satin red boyshort panties with black lace insets on the outer thighs. Attached garters held up sheer red stockings with lace tops and he wore a matching red spaghetti strap tank top with a black mesh cutout all down his front. On top of his unruly dark brown hair, a pair of red sparkly devil horns caught in the light as he danced.  

“Oh, I take it all back. I love the devil," Dean said as he reclined in the velvet booth he was sitting on. His legs automatically spreading as he adjusted to how quickly his dick got hard.

He wet his lips as he watched Cas’s hips sway to the beat of Cherry Pie. Dark blue eyes locked on his, Cas dropped to his knees, then crawled all sexy and feline toward him. So reminiscent of the first time they met that a searing surge of heat curled in Dean's gut. Then Cas’s hands were on his face, his thumbs dragging over the day old stubble on Dean’s jaw as he leaned in so close that Dean could almost taste the cherry lip gloss his lips were slicked in. He had no clue why that was so goddamn hot, but there was Dean’s dick, already trying to push its way through a metal zipper.

Another blink and Cas was back on the stage, hips swinging in a sexy figure eight while he dragged a hand down the line of his neck, head tipped back. He smoothed his fingers down his chest, over his flat stomach. Just as he reached the edge of his panties, Dean blinked again. The beat of the music startled him and his eyes opened.

 _Fuck yes._ Castiel was here too. All decked out like a porno version of an angel. White satin panties, and a white leather harness, four straps that were buckled across his torso, two over his shoulders. Distantly, Dean thought that must be what was holding the white fluffy wings on his back. The pom-pom and tinsel halo on his head was a nice touch.

He blinked again and the two of them were practically grinding on stage. Hard and straining the fronts of their their shiny underwear as they rubbed together. Dean hadn’t even known he _liked_ dudes in lingerie. Sure, Rhonda had taught him the benefits of panties, but he hadn’t really ever pictured this. Except there it was right in front of him, and goddamn if Dean wasn’t so turned on he was ready to blow as he faintly nodded along to the beat, grinning dirty at them when they sent him matching bedroom eyes. All blue and full of sexy promise.

“Fuck.” Dean sighed as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, tried to subtly shift so his dick got a little friction. “I could come just watching the two of you.”

Identical smirks on their faces, Dean shifted in his seat again as they leaned in close to him. Hot, big hands on his shoulders, up the sides of his neck and their lips were so close, he craned his neck a little to try and kiss one of them, or hell, both, he wasn’t picky but they dropped their arms and pulled away. Turning around, perfect asses hugged by snug satin, Dean almost groaned out loud as they walked away toward the back of the stage. The music ended abruptly just as he noticed something out of place.

Suddenly, Castiel and Cas were gone, and Dean was face to face with Anna in a dark suit and white blouse. She stood in the middle of the stage and a lopsided smile turned up her lips. He blinked a few more times, no idea what was happening, why she’d suddenly be there. He hadn’t seen, or really even thought of her—he realized with a pang of guilt in his gut—in a long damn time. 

“Anna?” his voice was too loud. He struggled for an explanation and lamely mumbled, “I was just, uh, working on a case.”

“This is what you dream about,” she said in an amused tone.

Dean puffed his cheeks a little and dropped his eyes to the side as he blew it out. Folded his hands in his lap and under his breath whispered, “This is awkward.” Anna grinned and walked forward on the stage. She sat down in front of him on the edge of it while he asked, “Why are you gate crashing my head, why don’t you just swing by the motel?”

“I can’t find you,” she replied. Right. Of course she couldn’t. He knew that.

“Oh. Cas did this thing.” Dean’s spread his palm over his ribs.

Anna’s gaze fell to the side, frown on her face and eyes narrowed. “Cas. Right. Now there’s a friend you can count on.”

Definite bitterness in her voice that Dean didn’t understand. “What?”

Incredulously, she glanced up at him, “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Where I’ve been,” anger, that was a lot of anger and he still didn’t understand what she had against Castiel. She sighed out a frustrated breath. What the hell was going on? He wished she’d start making sense. “Of course not, why would he?”

His head tilted as he honed in on the important part of that, and pushed down the defensiveness her clear hostility toward Castiel was bringing to the surface. “Where’ve you been?”

“Prison.” Dean’s eyes widened. What? “Upstairs,” she confessed with a wry nod, eyes a little wet. “All the torture. Twice the self-righteousness—”

“Why wouldn’t he have told us where you were?”

“Because he’s the one who turned me in.” Anna said, clearly still pissed about it. If it was true, she had a right to be. “Ahh, don’t look so shocked. He was always a good little soldier. Did _anything_ under orders.”

“I didn’t know,” Dean admitted, concerned for Anna, but wary too. The thing was, Castiel _wasn’t_ a good little soldier. If he was, they wouldn’t be working together to stop the apocalypse. “Are you okay?”

She looked away for a second like she was composing herself, “No,” she said, steely. “And I don’t have long. I broke out. Barely. They’re looking for me. If they find me—”

“Okay,” Dean cut her off. “What do you need?” 

“Meet me. 225 Industrial. And please, just hurry.”  

Her voice was still ringing in his head when Dean’s eyes snapped open in the dark of the motel room. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his cheekbones and dampened his back. He bolted upright with a gasp that almost knocked Cas out of the bed.

“Dean?” he asked, eyes open and fully alert within seconds as he scanned the room for a threat. He quickly flicked on the bedside lamp once he realized nothing was immediately more pressing. “What’s happening?”

Cobwebs still clouded Dean’s mind and his heart rate was too fast. He shook his head, took him a moment to gather his thoughts and then he prayed, “Castiel, whatever you popped out last night for, drop it. We need to talk.”

A familiar rustle sounded and then Castiel was standing at the foot of the bed, head tilted curiously. “Dean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Anna getting hauled back to Heaven?” Dean asked as he crossed his arms defensively.

“I—it was … I didn’t have a choice, they were orders and—”

To stop him, Dean held up a hand, “That’s not what I asked, Cas and you know it. Heaven had you on a tight leash, I get that. What I asked was: Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel’s gaze fell to the carpet, cheeks stained pink, and lips pressed tight for a second before he spoke, “I wasn’t proud of what I did. I betrayed someone I admired a great deal. I didn’t want you to know. You couldn't have done anything to remedy her situation and the guilt would have weighed on you.”

Dean sighed. “Cas, there’s plenty of stuff I wish I could take back, you know? Stuff I wish you didn't know about me. And yeah, okay, I would've felt guilty, but that's on me and it's not up to you to decide what I can handle. I sure as hell don't feel better knowing that this whole time you knew where she was and you never said a word.”

Briefly, he paused to let his words sink in and to figure out how to say what needed to be said. “If there's ever something you feel like you gotta keep from me, or protect me from or whatever, don't. Man, you’ve seen me at my worst, and you’re still here. You gotta give me the same chance, all right?”

Castiel fidgeted, and then sat down at the edge of the bed next to Dean's legs, “Yes. I can—that's something I can do. And I _am_ sorry.”

Beside him, Cas reached out a hand and twined his fingers with Castiel’s, “Trust me, I know. I’ve thought about Anna, a lot. I know you hated what you had to do.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Castiel’s brows furrowed, his gaze snapped from his own lap to lock on Dean's eyes. Blue of them lightning sharp, “What happened? How did you discover this?”

Heat crept into Dean’s cheeks, under his jaw. He explained about Anna appearing in the middle of his dream. He skipped right over the little show that'd preceded the whole thing, and told them what Anna had said.

It went deadly quiet in the room while Castiel and Cas shared a look that clearly communicated something Dean didn’t even come close to having the roadmap to interpret. He frowned at them, “What?”

Cas shrugged his shoulder as he shifted in the bed so that he could lean back against the wall, “No one _escapes_ Heaven’s jail.”

“If she got out,” Castiel added, “they wanted her to be out. I’ll go to the meeting alone.”

“Cas,” Dean said, tone a warning. An argument was already forming in his mind about why he should go too.

Castiel’s eyes fiercely narrowed, and Dean was rapidly reminded that he was still an angel. Infinitely more powerful than him, even without the full weight of Heaven behind him. “It’s a trap, Dean,” Castiel’s eyes were unfaltering on his, unyielding. “She sought to cause a divide between us. A ploy to keep you from contacting me before you left. She asked that you meet her with a sense of urgency so that you’d feel duty-bound to make haste. She didn’t want you to take the time and consider your actions. It’s no secret that you are the kind of man who risks himself for others without thought to his own safety. There’s an agenda at play and I won’t deliver you to her.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Castiel was a seasoned warrior, and from what Dean knew a skilled strategist. Underneath his sometimes awkward mannerisms, his backwards tie, and too-big suit, there was an intelligence that was so far beyond his comprehension that it seemed impossible for him to be even the least bit interested in Dean and his insignificant tiny speck of a life. No matter how big of a role he was supposed to play in this insane apocalypse script.

“He’s right,” Cas quietly said, “It would be utterly foolish for you to go with him.”

They were both right and he knew it. That didn’t mean he had to like it. “Alright. Fine. I’ll sit this one out. But,” he jabbed a finger at Castiel, “you play it safe. Something feels off, you get back here and we regroup.”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel acquiesced, this little tiny smile on his lips that Dean couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss. His fingers found their way into Castiel’s hair as their lips brushed softly together.

“My turn,” Cas mumbled, next to Dean’s ear.

With a warm smile, Dean pulled back, and waved his hand toward Castiel in invitation. “All yours.”

They didn't have long, this thing with Anna was time sensitive, but they had time to say goodbye. They had time for easy kisses and shy smiles. A gentle reminder to Castiel that he needed to come back for them. Not to be risky, because he was needed. Finally, Castiel sighed and straightened up. “I should go,” he said reluctantly, and Dean nodded.

“Be safe,” he told him, eyes on Castiel’s tie as he fixed his collar for him. Pulled him in with a hand wrapped in that damn tie for one last lingering kiss.

\---

Inside the warehouse it was dark, dimly lit with hanging overhead lights casting faint circles of orange light every few feet. Some might consider it foreboding, but Castiel wasn’t deterred. Besides, he could see perfectly well in the dark. He could tell that he and Anna were the only ones there. His powers might be limited, but there were some things that remained unchanged. His vision and hearing were well beyond any human’s perception. Up ahead Anna walked beneath a lonely beam of light. Wind rustled long forgotten papers across the ground behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. Just enough fear on her face to seem convincing, but Castiel didn’t buy into her performance that easily.

“Hello?” she called out. “Who’s there?”

He shattered the bulbs directly in front of her, then those behind her, two-by-two-by-two, sparks showering down in a show of power meant to intimidate her, to throw her off. She spun around as if she was searching for him, and he let himself become visible behind her. “Hello, Anna.”

“Well,” she said, tone resigned, without turning to face him. “If I didn’t know any better,” she slowly turned to him, “I’d say the Winchesters don’t trust me.”

Her voice was bitter, so Castiel chose his words carefully, no need to antagonize her relationship with Dean and Sam prematurely. “They do. I don’t." He walked gradually around her, and she kept her front facing him. “I wouldn’t let them come.”

Anna blinked at him, “And why is that?”

Even she as she spoke words meant to convey innocent confusion, she didn’t manage to truly sound surprised. She knew very well why. Castiel sighed, eyes on the wall as he continued to circle. “If you’re out of prison, it’s because they let you out.” He glanced behind himself, half-expected to find other angels there. “And they sent you here to do their dirty work.”

He finally looked briefly back at her, once he’d double checked their surroundings.

“And what makes you so sure?” she asked, sarcastic edge to her voice that he ignored.

“Because, I’ve experienced … Heaven’s persuasion.”

There was anger in her voice, but it still wasn’t real enough when she said, “You mean when you _gave_ me to them.”

Perhaps a distraction meant to cause guilt, it worked to that end. His eyes locked on her face for a moment, “That was a mistake,” he told her honestly." But what she’d said was also meant to get his guard down, and that wasn’t a lapse in judgement he’d make. He looked away and circled her again. “Anna, whatever they sent you here to do—”

“They didn’t _send_ me. I escaped.”

Frustration, and disbelief colored his voice when he faced her again, “No _one_ escapes.”

Anna smirked, shoulders squared. “All these centuries, and you’re underestimating me now?”

Castiel frowned at her, but he played into her game. “If you’re not one of them, then what do you want?”

“I want to help.”

His whole body stiffened with how little he believed her words, eyes narrowed as he noticed the blade she was carrying. Not meant to kill angels, there was only one purpose for it. “You want to help?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you doing with that knife?”

Her lips parted and she stared at him, behind her eyes he could almost see the cogs of her whip sharp mind turning as she tried to find an explanation that he would be inclined to believe. The flaw in her attempt, was that he wasn’t inclined to believe anything she said. Not anymore.

She pulled a knife from the waistband at the small of her back, and held it in her hand, arm loose by her side. “I’m not allowed to defend myself?”

And possibly, that might have been a convincing answer, if she were holding a weapon that could defend her from those she claimed were pursuing her, but this? No. Her purpose was much more sinister.

“Against whom?” he asked as his eyes narrowed further. He bristled as he considered exactly what her intentions had been when she’d summoned Dean here. “That blade doesn’t work against angels.” He let his angel blade slip down into his right hand. “It’s not like this one.” Her eyes dropped to it, assessing. “Maybe you’re not working for Heaven, but there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Her lips parted and closed as her gaze slowly rose to his face. He saw the moment she decided to admit her true intentions. No more lies left for her to hide behind. Her eyelashes fluttered briefly and then she looked into his eyes. “Sam Winchester has to die.”

It wasn’t entirely what he expected, but he wasn’t shocked either. He stared unmoving at her as she elaborated, “I am sorry, but we have no choice. He’s Lucifer’s vessel.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“What that guy Nick?” she scoffed. “He’s burning away as we speak. No. Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means. If Lucifer can’t take Sam, his whole plan short circuits. No fight with Michael. No croatoan virus. The horsemen go back to their day jobs.”

True, but it wasn’t of consequence. Even if Castiel had been willing to let her harm Sam—he wasn’t—but even were he of a mind to, her efforts would be wasted. “Even if you could,” he swallowed, “kill Sam … Satan would just bring him back to life.”

Smugly, Anna shook her head and smiled grimly. “Not after I scatter his cells across the universe. They’ll never find him. Not all of him.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched as he turned away from her, and he shook his head subtly, “We’ll find another way.”

“How’s that going?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word and he tensed with it. “How’s the colt working out? Or the search for God? Is _anything_ working?” Terribly, he wanted to answer. No, it’s not, nothing is working. But this was _not_ the answer either. It would  _never_ be the answer. “If you _want_ to stop the devil, this is how.”

The eeriness of Anna unconsciously echoing the words he’d erroneously told Dean, that she was headed down the same dark fruitless path they’d been on wasn’t lost on him. Voice raspy with emotion he said, “The answer is still no. Because Sam is my friend.” 

He could feel Anna’s disappointment in him. He didn’t need to look at her in order to see it. “You’ve changed.”

“Maybe too late,” he agreed. “But I have.” He regarded her seriously, was mildly regretful that they were at odds, because he did still have tremendous respect for her. He understood her now, perhaps better than he’d understood any of his other brothers and sisters. “Anna, we’ve been through much together.” His face grew cold, his voice hard. “But you come near Sam Winchester, and I’ll kill you.”

For a few seconds she just stared at him and then she was gone. He tilted his head back and gave himself a moment to consider what had to be done next. The weight of it left a sour taste in his mouth.

When he returned to inform Cas and Dean about what had transpired, he found Sam already in their room as well. The three of them had clearly been waiting for his return. He set the necessary supplies for the spell he needed on the motel’s rickety table and set about preparing it as he explained what Anna had said.

He denied it, convincingly, he hoped, when Sam questioned whether killing him would actually work. The relieved look that Dean sent him warmed something in his chest, and he dropped his eyes back to his work. He let them know that Anna wouldn’t give up so easily. That she wouldn’t rest until Sam was dead. So they needed to find her first, and kill her.

Protectiveness of Sam made him all the more sure that he’d made the correct assessment. He didn’t waste further time, just cast the location spell. Dizziness caused him to stumble as his mind wrapped itself around exactly where Anna was.

Dean reached out and steadied him, concern in his voice, “Hey, you okay?”

As he straightened himself up, Castiel nodded, “I’m fine. I found her.”

“Well, where is she?” Cas asked from his seat on the bed.

“Not where—when.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is one of my faves but it takes sooooooo much effort to get each plot heavy chapter done, because I'm a stickler for getting the episode related details right. So, please, please help motivate me to get the next chapter out faster by leaving a comment. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey! New chapter! Yay! It's my intention to try and get as much of this finished up as I can before I start my run up for the DCBB, so with any luck I'll have more updates for you soon. <3

One second they were in the hotel with Castiel’s fingertips on his and Sam’s foreheads, Dean wrapped around Cas just like the last time he time travelled, next thing he knew they were standing in the middle of a street that definitely looked like it belonged in the seventies. Second verse same as the first, he was still wrapped around Cas. 

A honking horn and squealing brakes startled them, and Dean’s head spun a little, disoriented. They broke apart and headed for the side of the road. Another horn honked when they cut off a car going in the opposite direction, still out of it from the time jump. Dean was still flustered when they finally got to the sidewalk, and Cas and Sam looked it too. It took them all a moment to adjust and confirm that they were for sure in 1978. There wasn’t much doubt with all the Pintos and bell-bottoms. 

A feeling of wrongness settled over Dean. Where the hell was Castiel? Concerned, he looked around and spotted him collapsed on the ground a few feet away, back against a car—and from the looks of it, barely holding himself up. Dean’s stomach plummeted and his heart thundered.

“Cas?” he called, a little too loudly, freaked the fuck out. He quickly jogged over, Sam and Cas hot on his heels, and knelt next to Castiel. “Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy. Take it easy,” he steadied Castiel with a hand on his arm as Cas knelt down on his other side. Sam hovered, crouched by Castiel’s feet. “You alright?”   

Castiel’s awareness seemed questionable for a second, his skin was palid, his nose sluggishly bleeding, but he focused on Dean’s face and answered, “I’m fine. I’m much better than I expected.” 

There was only a half a second for cool relief to wash over Dean before Castiel gurgled up a mouthful of blood onto the pavement as he fell into Cas, out cold. Terror clutched at Dean’s chest, his eyes flew to Cas’s for reassurance, but it was Sam who reached out and cupped a hand in front of Castiel’s mouth and nose. 

“He’s breathing,” he said, and a second wave of relief, followed quickly by a disorienting wave of anxiety swept through him. So Cas was breathing, but he was out cold. Since when did angels sleep? “Sort of. What do we do?”

Dean’s mind hadn’t quite caught up yet when Cas answered, “We get a room.” His arms were tight around Castiel, heedless of the blood that was getting on his clothes. Hell, Dean thought a little hysterically, he was probably used to seeing people he’d slept with bloody and unconscious. And this was probably a much less frightening situation than he’d been dealing with at Chitaqua. When Dean just stared uncomprehending at him, he said, “A hotel room. We need to get him out of the street.” 

Right, yeah. A bleeding guy out cold was gonna attract attention. He got himself together and they did what they had to. In the end, Cas stayed at the hotel with Castiel while he and Sam went to find their mom. Surprisingly, Cas went along with it. Dean had thought for sure, he’d be mutinous when he brought it up. That he wouldn’t want to be left behind, but Cas’d just rubbed his hand over his face, and then affectionately eyed Castiel. Shrugged a shoulder and said, “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him.” 

It must’ve been hard for him to watch them go, but he didn’t show it. He just told Dean to be safe, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if that was that was just another way to say I love you. So he said, “You too,” and kissed him quick on the lips before he followed Sam outside. He was still worried about Castiel, but he knew he was in good hands. They’d be okay, he had to believe that. 

\---

Dean’s blood went cold. Mary was already pregnant with him, and from the sad, stubborn look on her face, she definitely wasn’t gonna tuck tail and run now. Even if she was willing, Dean didn’t want that. He didn’t wanna trade Mary’s life for Sam’s. It was one thing if neither of them existed, it was another if he had to be without his brother. Sure, he wouldn’t know the difference, except he couldn’t imagine his life without Sam. A flash of complete helplessness crashed over him, because he was here  _ again, _ and just like last time—he couldn’t save her. 

His eyes welled up with unshed tears and his hands shook. Before he could think of what to say John came rushing around the corner. 

“Hey, we got a problem,” he announced, panicked. “Those blood things, the sigils. They’re gone.” 

Sam looked confused, “Gone as in?” 

“I—I drew one on the back of the door, I turned around and when I looked back it was a smudge.” 

Dean’s brows furrowed and his gut clenched. That couldn’t be good. He walked a few steps forward to check a sigil on the wall. Fuck. “He’s right.” 

Mary’s voice was confused behind him, “There’s no more holy oil.” 

Double fuck. They were  _ screwed. _ Whispers started up faintly at first in the room. A high pitched squeal that Dean recognized all too goddamn well. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam pull out an angel blade. The squealing got louder, excruciating, and Dean clutched at his head, covered his ears. Glass exploded inward, the windows shattering, and the lights popped out. His brain felt like it was a half a second away from exploding right along with them. 

Then there was a blessed moment of silence punctuated by the residual ringing in his ears, where Dean straightened up and looked around with wild eyes before the kitchen door got kicked in. 

Dean’s brows furrowed as someone he didn’t recognize walked in. “Who the hell are you?”

With a little smirk the guy replied, “I’m Uriel.” 

Fucking great. “Oh come on.” 

“Go.” Sam told Mary and John. 

Behind him, Dean heard Sam ushering them toward the front door. A faint flutter to their right caught his attention. Anna, on the stairs.  _ Goddamnit.  _ Anna was on their right, Uriel on their left, Mary and John behind them. They had no plan, there was no viable escape. One angel blade between them. Fucked was an understatement.

Dean glanced at Sam, offered him raised eyebrows and a shrug of one shoulder, “Well here goes nothin’”   

Sam stared back at him for a moment like he was willing Dean to come up with a better solution, but there wasn’t one. This was it. They were the only thing standing between their parents and certain death. There just—there wasn’t anything else to be done, so he shoved down on the fear and nervousness squirming wildly in his gut and made himself focus as he turned to face Uriel.

No time to second guess himself, so he surged forward and threw a punch. Useless because Uriel blocked it and sent him flying into the kitchen wall. Pain radiated through his back, his head where they’d connected with drywall and his ribs flamed as he curled up on the floor, gasping for the breath that’d been knocked out of him.  _ Get back up, get back up you sonofabitch. _ He struggled to his hands and knees, still trying to suck in air. A boot slammed into his side as soon as he got there—a blinding burst of agony tearing away what little air he’d managed to get back into his lungs. 

_ Fight, just fight. C’mon, get up!  _ Mom and Dad needed him and Dean was gonna fail them if he didn’t  _ get up.  _ He rolled to his feet, somehow standing just in time to catch Uriel’s fist with his cheek. Pain swelled out like a lightning crack, and his mind went fuzzy at the edges. He tried to see what was happening in the living room, but he couldn’t focus. Another punch sent him reeling, blood spattering inside his mouth. Copper-taste of it unsettling in its familiarity. 

He couldn’t fight back. He was trying,  _ fuck,  _ was he trying but he just wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough. Uriel slammed him back into the wall, one hand around his throat and he was choking. Sam’s pained gasp pierced through the haziness Dean's mind was suffocating in, and he glanced over. The blood in Dean’s face drained fast. Stomach sickeningly dropping to the floor, heart stopped cold—a pole was run through Sam’s chest, blood bubbling up around where he was impaled. Dean knew it wasn't the kind of injury he’d walk away from.  _ No! Fuck, fuck, no.   _ “Sammy!” 

There was blood steadily dripping from Sam’s lips and Dean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He needed to get to him, but Uriel’s grip on his throat was unflinching. “Sammy! No!” he choked out, ragged, wheezing. Horror and lack of air numbed his fingers that were scrabbling at Uriel’s hand. He clawed to no use. 

Sam slumped to the ground, and Dean fought harder. Sam gasped raggedly and then didn’t breathe again.  _ No, no, no, no. _ This wasn’t—Sam wasn’t supposed to  _ die. _ Sam  _ couldn’t _ die. Dean’s eyes filled up with tears and his chest was on fire with grief and despair. In denial, he shouted for his brother, “Sam!” 

Deathly silence. Dean broke. He grunted and struggled against Uriel, but everything was a muted by the anguish filling up his chest. He tried to focus on freeing himself. To save his mom as Anna approached her. 

His eyes were sluggish and his lungs ached. Between one blink and the next John was there. “Anna.”

She spun around and faced him on a gasp, and Uriel’s grip on Dean’s throat loosened enough for him to hear her surprised exclamation, “Michael?”

What the fuck? Michael? Dean sucked in air and watched, weird vindication surging in his gut as Michael reached out and touched his palm to Anna. Lit her up like fucking bonfire while she screamed. And he might’ve felt bad for her, once, but the bitch had killed Sam—Dean’s mind recoiled from the thought. She deserved worse than frying. 

Uriel released him and Dean gasped in unobstructed air, doubled over and panting, just trying to stay upright and get himself together so he could face whatever fresh hell Michael was there to rain down on them. He watched Uriel cautiously approach Michael. 

“Michael,” he said softly, “I didn’t know.” 

Flatly, Michael stared at him, “Goodbye, Uriel,” he snapped his fingers and Uriel disappeared. 

It was fucked up, watching Michael wear his dad. Wrong. How in the hell’d this even happened? 

Mary’s soft harsh breaths echoed loud in the living room as Michael approached her. “What’d you do to John?” 

“John is fine,” Michael reassured her as he closed in, but Dean wasn’t sure he believed that. 

“Who?” she asked, terror in every line of her body but standing her ground and there was a little swell of pride in Dean’s gut, dimmed by his all-consuming distress over Sam, not breathing.  _ “What _ are you?” 

Patronizingly, Michael shushed her. He reached out two fingers to her forehead and she dropped like a bag of rocks. Dean flinched and struggled to standing. He forced himself to walk into the room, one arm curled around the searing ache of his ribs. 

For a long moment, Michael watched him, then he stepped forward, “Well, I’d say this conversation was long overdue. Wouldn’t you?” 

Hope sprung up in Dean, just a tiny trickle, but Michael could heal Sam. He jabbed a finger at his brother and glared at Michael.  “Fix him,” he demanded, voice raspy. 

“First … we talk,” Michael said, one finger held up for Dean to wait. “Then I fix your darling little Sammy.” 

Dean’s brows furrowed, cautiously relieved that Michael was gonna bring Sam back. He didn’t trust the guy a fucking inch, but he couldn’t exactly have his showdown with Lucifer if Sam was gone, could he? That much, he did trust. “How did you get in my dad, anyway?” 

Michael’s brows lifted. “Well, I told him I could save his wife and he said yes.” 

Subtly, Dean shook his head, weaving unsteadily on his feet. “Well, I guess they oversold me being your one and only  _ vessel.”  _

Michael’s lips quirked in a smirk. “You’re my  _ true _ vessel, but not my only one.” 

The hell? Dean frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s a bloodline,” Michael succinctly informed him. 

Dean’s eyebrows jumped up, “A bloodline?” 

Michael nodded. “Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It’s in your blood, your father’s blood,” he leaned forward, “your  _ family’s  _ blood.” 

Shifting uncomfortably, Dean shook his head again. Of course it fucking was. “Awesome,” he sarcastically whispered, throat raw. “Six degrees of Heaven bacon. What do you  _ want  _ with me?” 

Incredulously, Michael smirked. “You really don’t know the answer to that?” 

“Well, you know I ain’t gonna say yes, so why are you here?” Dean’s face was set with his determination. Louder this time, he asked, “What do you want with me?” 

Michael straightened up and shot him an unamused look. “I just want you to understand what  _ you and I _ have to do.” 

“Oh, I get it.” Dean pursed his lips. “You got beef with your brother. Well, get some therapy pal. Don’t take it out on my planet!” 

A wide smile spread Michael’s mouth, “You’re wrong. You know, Lucifer defied our father and he betrayed me but still … I don’t want this anymore than you would want to kill Sam.” 

Michael turned and walked toward Sam’s body prone on the floor, and and Dean’s heart clenched in agony. “You know, my brother, I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand and I  _ still  _ love him.” He was staring thoughtfully down at Sam. Dean’s gut twisted, didn’t want the bastard even  _ looking _ at Sam. Not now—not ever. “But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.” 

Harshly, Dean narrowed his eyes at him, “Oh because  _ God _ says so?”

“Yes,” Michael replied. “From the beginning he  _ knew _ this was how it was going to end.” 

Disgust turned Dean's stomach. “And you’re just gonna do whatever God says?”

“Yes, because I am a good son,” Michael said, like being considered a good son meant a damn thing when your dad asked you to cause the murder of half a fucking planet—to kill your own brother.

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, well trust me, pal, take it from someone who knows: That is a dead end street.” 

“And you think you know better?” Michael asked with a lopsided smile that didn’t hold the slightest bit of warmth. “Than my father? One unimportant little man. What makes you think you get to choose?” 

Vehemently, Dean spit out, “Because I gotta believe,” he paused, “that I can choose what I do with my unimportant  _ little life.” _

“You’re wrong. You know how I know?” He walked away again, back facing Dean when he said, “Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born. To meet. To fall in love. To have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that  _ you  _  make and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is?” 

Dean stayed silent, glaring, and Michael smiled at him like he’d won, then continued, “Because it’s not random. It’s not chance. It’s a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will is an illusion, Dean. That’s why you’re going to say yes.” His smile broadened into a grin. “Oh buck up. It could be worse. You know—unlike my brothers—I won’t leave you a drooling mess when I’m done wearing you.” 

Dean didn’t care. “But what about my dad?” 

“Better than new. In fact, I’m gonna do your mom and your dad a favor,” his voice was magnanimous but Dean's gut twisted with unease.

Favor from an archangel couldn’t be anything good. Hollowly, Dean asked, “What?” 

“Scrub their minds. They won’t remember me. Or you.”

No. Shit, “You can’t do that.”

“I’m just giving your mother what she wants,” Michael said like it was fucking reasonable. “She can go back to her husband, her family.” 

_ Goddamnit.  _ “She’s gonna walk right into that nursery,” Dean pointed out, frustrated all over again, helpless again. Always. 

“Obviously,” he said as he turned away. “And you always knew that was going to play out one way or another.” He looked back over his shoulder with a grin. “You can’t fight City Hall.” 

Dean fumed, adrenaline that he'd been trained to fight through racing through his body, making him hyper-focused and putting him on edge. Michael walked over and crouched down by Sam while Dean stood frozen, watching, heart slamming against his aching ribs and crushing defeat dragging him down lower by the second. Michael reached out his fingers to Sam’s temple and the pole clattered loudly to the ground as Sam disappeared. Jarring, and Dean blinked his eyes hard. 

“He’s home. Safe and sound,” Michael said tonelessly as he headed back over to Dean. “Your turn. I’ll see you soon Dean.”  

He brought his hand up and touched his fingers to Dean’s forehead. There was only a moment for Dean’s panicked mind to latch onto the fact that Cas and Castiel were gonna be stranded there. What would happen to Cas if he came looking for them? How would he take it if he saw the evidence of what’d happened there. 

A flash of white light blinded him and then he was standing back in the same hotel that Cas’d jumped them into the past from. There was no sign of Michael. Sam was standing in front of him, wide-eyed, but whole, breathing. Clean clothes and face, and offering him a grim smile. Dean’s pulse pounded in his ears. Soul-deep relieved for Sam’s safety. It still couldn’t quiet his fears about Cas and Castiel, but he folded Sam up in a hug anyway. 

\----

Hours later, they were tinkering around the room. Dean didn’t know what else to do with himself. Would Cas and Castiel be able to make it back? How long would it take? What if they had to stay in the past and live through all those years? Castiel, he wouldn’t age, but Cas would. He’d lose a hell of a lot of years waiting to catch up to them. So maybe Dean was freaking out about time travel and consequences this time instead of Sam, but damn it—he was worried. 

On top of that he felt like a useless piece of shit. He couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t save Mom, he couldn’t help Cas and Castiel. What if Michael was right? What if free will was an illusion? What if he and Sam had no choice? His entire being rejected that thought fundamentally, but was what he believed the truth? Even when everything that happened seemed to defy that belief? Twice. He’d had the chance to save Mom twice now and both times he hadn’t been able to. Like it was a fixed event. Like it had to happen. What if everything was like that? 

He was fiddling with the stuff in his duffel bag on one of the beds when Sam suddenly gasped, and exclaimed, “Castiel.” 

Dean spun around just in time to watch Sam catch Castiel, Cas right next to him looking dazed. 

“Hey, hey, hey, woah, hey,” Sam soothed as he supported Castiel.

Just as Castiel’s legs went weak, Dean caught him on the other side, “Cas!” his eyes darted between them, so fucking glad they were okay. “You son of a bitch, you made it.” 

Castiel sounded shocked, “I did?” he looked at his hand, “Well, I’m very surprised.” 

Before he could say anything else, he passed out cold, dead weight in their arms. They managed to drag him over to the bed and with Cas’s help, got him lying comfortably on it. 

“Well I could use that drink now,” Dean said to Sam, then glanced at Cas. “You want one too?” 

“Yeah,” Cas sounded a little shaky as he sat down on the bed next to Castiel. 

Dean grabbed the whiskey while Sam got glasses. He filled up Sam and Cas’s cups first and then his own. “Well, this is it,” he said, standing beside the bed in between Cas and Sam. 

“This is what?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised before he took a sip. 

“Team free will,” Dean announced. “One ex-blood-junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, a former Angel of the Lord, and Mr. Comatose over there. Awesome.” 

Quietly, Sam said, “That’s not funny.”  

“It’s a little funny,” Cas replied flatly with a wry quirk of his lips, and Dean almost did laugh, but Sam’s face was serious. The situation was too, he got that. 

Sam sighed heavily. “They all say we’ll say yes.”

“I know. It’s gettin’ annoying,” Dean grumbled. He took a long swallow of his drink, the burn of it sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach.

“What if they’re right?” Sam asked. 

Dean’s heart lurched. With a certainty he didn’t quite feel, he assured Sam, “They’re not.” 

“I … I mean, wh-why would we … either of us … but,” he sucked in breath, “I’ve been weak before.” 

“Sam—” 

“Michael got Dad to say yes,” Sam pointed out with a grimace. 

“Sam,” Cas stood up from the bed and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder while Sam looked at him with sad eyes that stabbed into Dean’s gut. “I don’t know what happened with Michael and your father, but I have faith.” 

Sam’s eyes were wet, shining, and he was all desperation when he asked, “How? After what you—After what I did to you … to your Dean?” 

Cas shook his head. “That wasn’t you. It’s not you, and we’ve proven more than once that God’s rules can be broken,” he spared a glance for Dean, “I have faith in you. In Dean. We’ll  _ make _ this time different. Trust in that if you can’t trust yourself.” 

Slowly, Sam nodded, and it looked like Cas’s words had gotten through to him. Dean desperately wished he could believe him too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I say this every end note, but this fic is super time-consuming because of how much detail to actual canon I need to simultaneously pay attention to while writing. So if you're wondering why updates are a little longer (okay, fine, a lot longer) than for other things that I write, that's it. I freaking love this fic though, and I promise the rest is outlined. I know where it's going (and oh boy, the feelings), but it's an intensive process that takes me some time to psych myself up for sometimes. That said, thank you for all of your amazing, encouraging comments. They really do make working so hard on this one worth it. <3<3<3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, good news!! I finally finished writing this in its entirety. I'm now nearly comatose, but it's done. <3 It still needs a lot of editing, but I'm gonna do my best to get the editing done and the remaining chapters posted over the next few days. You guys have been patiently waiting for this for over a year, (all, like, 3 of you. Lol). 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around. <3

The case that they were working’d started with a couple who ate each other to death of all things. It was fucked up and bizarre, and none of ‘em had a clue about what the hell was going on. The fact that Cas’d been kinda twitchy since not long after they gotten to town wasn’t exactly helping any. Dean had a hard time concentrating on what he oughta when he was too busy giving Cas sidelong looks and trying to figure out just what the fuck was wrong. Sure, he could probably ask, but Cas was already snapping at Sam and him about little things, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of making him any angrier.

The diner that they were sitting in was just like a million and one others he’d been inside of. There was nothing special about it, and that was what made it familiar and sorta comforting although he’d never been to this particular one before. Their waitress was a pretty redheaded girl with an easy smile and big … green eyes. She grinned at him as she leaned over to top his coffee up again for the third time, and he smiled his thanks back.

“Dean,” Sam interrupted the exchange of pleasantries, and the waitress left. “What d’you think?”

Dean picked up his mug and blew into the steaming dark brown liquid. It wasn’t half-bad, he thought as he sipped it. “No clue, dude. I mean, it didn’t look like anything I’ve seen before and I’d definitely remember if somethin’ like that was in Dad’s journal.”

Next to him, Cas was silently pushing his food around his plate and staring out the window. “What about you?” Dean asked him, “You ever heard of somethin’ that fits this?”

“If I had, I would’ve told you already,” Cas said somberly, shoulders tightening, eyes not leaving the window, “Don’t you think?”

“I—yeah, I guess,” Dean muttered, gaze flashing down to his coffee.

Across the table, Sam cleared his throat. “So, we keep looking into stuff. See if anything sticks out.”

“Right,” Dean half-heartedly agreed. He downed half his coffee, and just as he set his mug down on the table their waitress was back with the pot, shy smile on her face.

“I was just passing by,” she explained, “and noticed you might need another refill.”

With a half-smile, Dean shook his head, amused. “Nah, I’m good, sweetheart. Thanks though.”

“I’d like some,” Cas said, voice strained and just the other side of civil, empty cup held out, pointedly ignoring Dean’s surprised glance.

The waitress blushed, and rushed to fill his cup. “Of course, yeah. Do you want some, too?” she asked Sam.

He shook his head in reply and shot Dean a look. “No thanks. Just the bill would be great.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she left with a last quick look at Dean.

“What was that about?” Dean asked Cas, eyebrows raised at him.

Cas just stared flatly back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wanted coffee, I got coffee.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, “and you practically bit her head off because?”

If looks could kill, Dean’d be burnt to a crisp. “I was polite enough.” He crossed his arms and turned away to look out through the window again leaving Dean just as confused as he’d been at the start.

He glanced over at Sam, and lifted his brows at him, silently asking,  _ what the fuck?  _ Sam, the jerk, smirked and inclined his head to where the waitress was standing and getting their bill ready. What about the waitr—wait. Cas was jealous? Sam’s lips twitched in amusement when he clearly saw the light bulb go off in Dean’s head.

Why would Cas be jealous? It wasn't like Dean was tryin’ to get her number—though, he smirked, he definitely could if he wanted to. She'd been dropping hints left and right with the shy smiles and the excessive refills. So what, though? It wasn't like he'd been turning the charm up, or anything's

All Dean'd done was be friendly in return.… Except now that he was thinking about Cas's motivation here, he couldn't help but recall the whole dysfunctional the other him and Cas sleepin’ around on each other to punish one another thing they had going. What if Cas thought Dean was pissed at him? What if he thought, thanks to experience, that Dean was gonna bang the waitress just to hurt him?

Something sharp and dark twisted in Dean's gut. He couldn't let Cas keep thinkin’ that.

“Hey, can you take care of the bill?” Dean asked him. “I gotta talk to Cas for a minute outside.”

Agreeably, Sam nodded. “Yeah su—”

Cas cut him off with a glare aimed at Dean. “I’m not done my coffee.”

Dean clenched his jaw for a second and willed his temper to cool down before he  calmly said, “Okay. Sam, please get him a coffee to go,” he turned his attention to Cas. “We need to talk. Now.”

Petulantly, Cas took another sip of his coffee before he followed Dean out of the booth, and trailed behind him out of the diner. There were too many people milling around out front, so Dean led Cas down the alleyway between the diner and the next building over. Right around to the empty back parking lot. Which was right about when Cas’s patience finally wore out.

Exasperation in his voice, he asked, “What are we doing here, Dean?”

A gasp of breath rushed out of his lungs as Dean pushed him up against the wall. Dean’s hand was on Cas’s jaw, tipping his head back so that Cas was looking right into his eyes. Dean gave him a smirk, “Jealous, Cas?”

“No,” Cas denied stubbornly, pretty pink rising in his cheeks that betrayed his words.

“Mmm. I think you were.” He pressed himself close to Cas, already chubbing up in his pants—he let Cas feel the way he was thickening. “But you didn’t need to be. The only people who get me like this are you and Cas. So it doesn’t matter how pretty the waitress is, or how much she smiles and flirts, ‘cause end of the day, I’m all yours. We're making this different, remember?”

Cas’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark, “Dean,” he sighed just shy of desperate.

“Yeah,” he breathed back before sucking the swell of Cas’s bottom lip into his mouth. He kissed him rough and fierce, tongues instantly flashing into each other’s mouths. It was hot and brutal, and Dean’s whole body vibrated with the intensity of Cas’s mouth hot on his. Cas clawed at the back of Dean’s shoulders, like he was trying to pull him even closer, snugger.

God, Cas was hard, too, panting into Dean’s mouth. He was making these wonded little whimpers, and rutting against Dean's thigh thigh. The scrape of denim against denim was unbearably arousing.

They didn’t have time—not with Sam waiting, but he wished like fuck they did. His hands on Cas’s hips stilled him, and the whine that broke free from Cas’s throat flooded Dean’s gut with fire. He rested his forehead against Cas’s, eyes squeezing shut as he fought for control. Their breaths came harsh and fast and damp in the scant space between their mouths.

“Later, okay? I promise we’ll have time for this later, sweetheart,” he whispered, smoothing a hand along the side of Cas’s neck.

Shakily, Cas said, “Okay.”

For a few minutes they just stayed there, breathing each other’s air and trying to calm down enough to be presentable. When they finally pulled apart, Dean realized just how futile that effort was. Cas was still rosy cheeked, lips bitten red and shiny, his hair was a mess—Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d been pulling at it. He couldn't help but smile dirty satisfaction at his handiwork, though, and Cas rolled his eyes as he adjusted himself in his jeans. Dean did the same before he smoothed Cas’s hair down for him and stole another kiss from Cas's willing lips.

\----

The hospital was mostly empty when they got there, pretty much everyone was gone for the day. In one of the hallways on the way to the morgue, they passed by a guy rolling a metal cabinet full of crap with a squeaky wheel.

They’d caught something on the police scanner earlier about fresh bodies—another double suicide. Since it could be connected to the case they were working, they’d all dressed up in their fed suits, and headed over to the morgue.

Cas was looking pretty damn sharp in his new to him suit, walking along side Sam. The black jacket hugged his shoulders just right, and Dean kept glancing over at him.  _ Focus. _ Right, he turned his attention to leading them all to the room he’d been in earlier when he’d checked out the last set of bodies.

A nondescript guy in a suit with a briefcase passed them, and Sam almost spun around looking at him. Tingles of unease crept up Dean’s spine. He caught Sam’s attention, “You okay?”

Looking a little shaken, brows furrowed in confusion or maybe determination he said, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sam glanced back over his shoulder at the retreating guy, and Dean was curious, but he let it go as they filed in the door to the morgue.

“Agent Marley,” Dr. Corman, the medical examiner, greeted him. He was an older guy, round with an easy smile. “You just can’t stay away.”

“Heard you bagged another double suicide,” Dean said with a lopsided smile as he strode into the room.

Dr. Cormen inclined his head. “Ah, I just finished closing them up.”

“Dr. Cormen these are my partners Special Agents Cliff,” he waved a hand at Sam, “and Chambers,” he motioned toward Cas.

“Agent Cliff,” Dr. Cormen shook Sam’s hand, and then Cas’s, “Agent Chambers, I finished my prelims,” he walked past them, shrugging out of his lab coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the corner, “I pulled the organ sets and sent off the tox samples.”

“Great,” Sam pointed behind himself with his thumb, “You mind if we take a look at the bodies?”

“Not at all,” he said cheerfully as he opened a refrigerator door and revealed stacks and stacks of plastic containers. “But like I said, their good and plenties are already tupperware-d.”

“Super,” Sam replied with a grimace.

“Just leave the keys with Marty, up front,” Dr. Cormen tossed the keys to Cas who caught them easily, and then he grabbed his hat, “and please, gentlemen, refrigerate after opening,” he put his hat on his head with a wry smile that Dean matched.

He liked Dr. Cormen. “Will do,” Dean told him, amusement in his tone of voice, and  Dr. Cormen left. Dean and Sam wrinkled their noses as it each other before they glanced at the fridge.

“Let’s get this over with,” Cas mumbled, walking over to the coat rack and hanging up his suit jacket.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, asking what was up with Cas, but Dean shrugged a shoulder, no idea. “Yeah, okay,” Sam said as he followed.

They suited up with aprons and gloves and then went to work on examining the parts Dr. Cormen had left in the fridge. Sam was making a grossed out face at the guts he was digging through and Cas was poking at a liver. Dean smirked when he opened the container in front of him and revealed a heart. He glanced over at Cas as an idea formed in his head.

“Hey, Cas,” Cas looked over at him, so serious, one eyebrow up. “Be my Valentine?” he slid the tupperware container toward him. Dean grinned as Cas rolled his eyes, lips twitching with a tiny smile while Sam made gagging noises.

Cas’s eyes went serious when he looked down at the heart. “Crap. Let me see that.”

“What?” Dean asked as he pushed it closer and Cas leaned toward him, pointing out a spot on the heart, some kind of symbol.

“That’s enochian,” he informed them.

“What’s it mean?” Sam asked, brows drawn together.

“It’s a cupid’s mark. We’ll need Castiel’s help on this. We won’t be able to sense one.”

“A cupid?” Sam asked incredulously.

Dean shared the sentiment. “Seriously? Big naked guy in a diaper?”

“The diaper’s inaccurate. They’re naked, not incontinent,” Cas pointed out as if it was common knowledge. And yeah, maybe to an angel it was. “They’re a cast of angel.”

“Oh, what the hell?” Dean grumbled. “Why’s a cupid killing people?”

Cas shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t know. That’s why we need Castiel.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll call him,” Dean mumbled as he snapped off his gloves, standing and pulling out his phone as he paced.

He dialed the number and listened to the ringtone. Behind him he heard Sam saying, “Okay, but really? Naked?”

“Hello?” Castiel asked, tone endlessly confused.

“Cas, it’s Dean.”

His confusion deepend, “Dean?”

“Yeah. Room 31C, basement level. Saint James Medical Cent—” suddenly he was toe to toe with Cas, who still had his cell pressed to his ear.

“I’m there now,” Cas pointed out obviously.

“Yeah, I get that.” Their voices echoed in the phone he still had up to his ear too as they stared at one another. How come Cas always had to look so damn good? Even with his brows drawn down and his confused expression, he was gorgeous enough that it made Dean stare.

“I’m gonna hang up … now,” Cas said, eyes squinted at Dean like he was the one being weird.

“Right.”  

\----

So they caught the goddamn naked cupid. And got hugged. Tightly. By a naked goddamn cupid. And learned a whole lot about jack and shit because he wasn’t the cause of whatever was going down. They had nothin’ to show for it either, except for Dean’s busted up knuckles and his pissed off mood. Sam’d tried to ask him what was going on with him, and he’d flown right past annoyed and into silent rage. He’d stormed out.

Right now he was in the shower and he’d been in there at least twenty minutes. The pipes’d started creaking and the water was turning cold. Dean's fingers were pruny and he wasn’t anywhere near closer to a better mood. He just felt … empty. Beaten down.

A feeling that’d been growing in his chest ever since he’d had that run in with Michael in the past. It wasn’t helplessness anymore … it was a bone-deep numbness that was spreading through him from a gnarled knot in his stomach out in tendrils that felt like they’d eventually consume him. The only bright spots left were the parts of his heart that Cas and Castiel owned.

He shut off the water and he was drying off when the door knob he was positive that he’d lock twisted. He stepped back just in time for Castiel to crack the door and squeeze through. Once he’d closed the door behind himself, Castiel leaned against it with his head tipped back, hair curling slightly with the humidity from the shower. He watched Dean patiently, his gaze heated on Dean’s bare skin.

Arousal flared low in Dean’s gut, and he rubbed the towel over his damp hair again before he dropped it. “What’s up Cas?”  

Castiel blinked, his eyes drawing back up slowly to meet Dean’s. “We have a matter to discuss. Concerning Cas.”

Surprised, Dean raised his eyebrows as he pulled on the boxer briefs he’d laid out on the toilet seat lid. “What about him?”

“He requires something from us. His behavior seemed unusual, so we spoke. He believes that he needs to be ‘used’ in order to stop spiraling. He said that he craves to be commanded. Sexually.”

Well that came outta left field. Dean smirked, “Yeah, Cas. I got that. It … uh, it was part of his thing with the other me. They were.…”

“Cas told me,” Castiel informed him.

Well, all right then, so Castiel knew. That took care of that. “So how do we do this? I’m uh … not really used to treating someone like that. Especially someone I,” Dean wet his lips, “care about.”

Castiel’s head tilted to the side. “It’s what he wants. I don’t think he needs much.”

Thoughts flashing back to the way Other him’d acted that night, Dean let out a sigh and nodded. He never thought that he’d be actively trying to be like  _ him _ and his gut twisted with the fact that at least a bit, he was turned on by it. “When we—with  _ him,  _ he told Cas what to do to me. I didn’t really have to—”

Castiel’s eyes went dark, blazed with arousal, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “I could fill that role.”

He—Castiel … what? “Uhhh.”

Castiel’s lips curved up at the edges. “The idea appeals to me.”

“Uh-huh … okay. Sure. We can … uh, we can try that.”

Castiel nodded his approval, and they headed out of the bathroom. Cas was sitting on the end of the bed, a faint flush to his cheeks, bare feet braced on the carpet. In another borrowed pair of Dean’s jeans and one of his plain black t-shirts, he looked downright sinful with his hands curled together in his lap—waiting for them.

Deep and scratchy and right behind Dean, Castiel’s voice made them both shiver, “On your knees, Cas.”

Cas’s eyes flashed up to Castiel’s face first, then Dean’s, his blue eyes were wide, gone dark and glassy with desire. “Yeah,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees in front of the bed.

“Good,” Castiel murmured, and Dean’s already fattening dick pulsed harder with the rapid beat of his heart.

Firmly, Castiel pushed him forward with a large gentle hand, warm on the small of his back, snapping Dean out of his stunned state of disbelief. Right. Participation. “Look so good like that, Cas. On your knees for us.”

“Dean’s right,” Castiel said, voice silky-smooth in a way Dean hadn’t even known it could get. “I think you should show him exactly what you’re good at doing on your knees.”

Cas nodded, eyes hazy-hot, “Yeah. I … I can.…”

Dean walked over to him and petted his hand through Cas’s hair. “C’mon, sweetheart. Show me what those pretty lips are for.”

Cas’s whole body shuddered with Dean’s words, tension melting out of him. His fingers curled in the waistband of Dean’s boxer-briefs and fuck, it was sexy the way he blinked up at Dean right before dragging his lips along the outline of Dean's cock pushing out against dark grey cotton. He watched, heat rushing to his dick as the wet inside of Cas's lip clung to the fabric—a dirty tease, and it made Dean  _ want. _

Cas's tongue flashed out over the head, pink curl of it against dark material, and Dean's lips parted on a groan. Over the tip, Cas closed his mouth, gently sucked at it and his saliva soaked hotly through Dean's underwear. Dean sighed softly at the muted sensation of Cas's tongue swiping over the head of his cock, and he reverently ran his fingertips over Cas’s cheekbones, tracing the pink spreading there.

Vividly, Dean was reminded of Castiel’s presence when his hand curled in Cas’s hair and pulled until Cas’s head is tilted back, lips open on a gasp as the tendons in his neck strained. Sweat prickled up in a flush along Dean’s chest and, fuck he’d never ever be over how goddamn hot they were together.

“Enough teasing,” Castiel announced flatly, he reached out with two fingers to Dean’s chest.

There was a weird whisper of sensation, almost like the rasp of fingertips over his skin and Dean realized that he was suddenly naked and so were Cas and Castiel. Angel mojo? “Lazy much?” he said to Castiel with a smirk, “I was down to one layer, man.”

Castiel shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps I’m feeling impatient.”

Dean’s fingers curled unconsciously around his own dick, absently fisting it for relief. “Me too.”  

Castiel hummed, looking between Dean’s hand on his cock and Cas’s face, some kind of realization lighting up his eyes. He positioned himself right next to Dean, hip to hip, and then angled inward toward him. And oh fuck, Dean knew what Castiel wanted.

He bit his lip hard to choke back a whimper that rose in the back of his throat when Castiel gripped his own cock and brought Cas’s head forward. Willingly, Cas’s mouth parted around Castiel. God, they looked good together. Cas’s lips reddening as he slid them up and down Cas’s dick, guided by Castiel’s hand in his hair.

By the time Castiel pulled him off all three of them were breathing heavily, and Dean didn’t get a second to recover from the sight of that before Castiel shoved Cas toward him, “Suck Dean.”

Like he was desperate to, Cas swallowed him down, sliding his lips in a tight ring down the length of Dean’s cock before sucking his way back up, over and over. Slow crawl of a pace that was set by Castiel’s hand in Cas's hair. “Fuck,” Dean groaned, wet heat and the slick sounds of suction going straight to his gut, curling up there.

It didn’t last all that long before Castiel was tugging Cas off of him—good thing too, ‘cause Dean already felt fit to burst. The smooth head of Castiel’s cock rubbed over Dean’s and he groaned. Gut already clenching with the filthy-hot want of what Castiel was doing.

“Show us how bad you want us,” Castiel said, voice gritty-low and scorching. Where the fuck’d he learned to talk like this? Dean wanted to ask, but Cas’s hands curled around each of their dicks, and then his tongue was darting around their heads. Rubbing them over his swollen shiny lips as he licked at them. Dean’s mind went blank, heat rolling through him like the aftermath of a lightning strike.

Cas’s eyes were closed, face relaxed—blissful. God, he loved this. It hit Dean hard, shuddered through him, how much Cas enjoyed this. Maybe even needed it now and then. “Fuck, Cas,” he breathed out, awed and turned on. “So good at this.”

Castiel’s hips shifted away, and Cas blinked his eyes open curiously. “Make Dean come.”

“Oh fuck,” Dean groaned, deep and wanting.

Expertly, Cas took him apart, single-minded focus that he used to quickly bring Dean to the edge. The pressure of his lips, suction and speed perfect. Pleasure pounded through his body in time with his heartbeat. His breaths were shallow and fast, and then Castiel was there, kissing him hard. Teeth sank into his bottom lip and Dean trembled. Cas made this hot little choking sound when he swallowed around Dean, and that was it.

All the pleasure and arousal that’d pooled in belly exploded out with jagged pulses of his cock. He panted and shook, lips slack against Castiel’s as he came. After the last shiver of his release, Castiel guided him to sit on the bed, and limbs gone liquid-warm, Dean went.

He watched with half-lidded eyes while Castiel demandingly fucked Cas’s mouth. Let the image sear itself in his mind, ‘cause fuck, like he’d said, they were goddamn hot together. Cas’s eyes were squeezed shut, his hands fisted on his thighs, and for a flash it was just like that night with the other Dean. Except this time was gonna be different. After Castiel came down Cas’s throat they’d both put Cas back together.

“Doin’ so good Cas,” Dean murmured, not even sure which one of ‘em he was talking to—maybe both of them.

“He’s so—” Castiel sucked in air, whole body glowing with sweat and Dean wanted to run his fingers over all that slick skin, “I’m—” Castiel broke off on a shuddering groan so low that it tingled down Dean’s spine.

Little trails of come leaked out at the corners of Cas’s mouth, lips stretched wide around Castiel’s pulsing cock. Fuck it looked sexy and Dean wanted to lick him clean. Castiel pulled out and smiled down at Cas, admiration evident in the shine of his eyes and the curve of his lips. The way Cas was looking back up at him, this vulnerable adoration in his expression stuttered Dean’s heart in his chest. Warmth that stole his breath, that he had to focus through.

“Bring him up here,” Dean said softly to Castiel. He scooted up on the bed to make room for them. “Think he’s been good long enough. It’s time to give him a reward.”

Castiel wasted no time in laying Cas out on the bed in between him and Dean. Instantly, Dean gave into his earlier impulse, used his tongue to clean Castiel’s come from Cas’s face and then chased the taste of him into Cas’s mouth.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, throwing his head back as Dean’s fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him swift and sure.

Castiel claimed Cas’s lips, one of his hands coming up to tug and roll Cas’s pebbled tight nipple. Good idea. Dean shifted on his arm and latched his mouth over the other one, sucked and licked at it, still jerking Cas off. He bit down lightly and felt Cas’s cock fatten in his hand, a keening whimper caught tight in Cas’s throat, so he sucked hard, dragging his teeth along sensitive flesh.

“Ah,” Cas moaned, “fuck, fuck,” and then he was spurting warm and white over Dean’s hand and his own stomach. Splashes wrung out of him by Dean’s tight grip until he was gasping for air and shaking.

After that it was all luxurious kisses traded between the three of them. Warmth and connection that were almost enough to edge out Dean’s awareness of the crawling numbness that’d taken up residence in his core.

Not quite though. Even as Cas slept in his arms and Castiel’s fingers smoothed soothingly along Dean’s arm he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he’d get to keep this. Good things didn’t last. Not for Dean, not for any of them. And when it came—whatever it was—Dean would be powerless to stop it. Like he always was. He slept fitfully that night, and as if he sensed that Dean needed him, Castiel stayed the whole time.

\----

In the end, of all things—what they were hunting turned out to be another goddamn horseman. Famine. Their plan to cut off his ring and kill the fucker had gone to hell in a handbasket and it’d been Sam, hopped up on fucking demon blood that’d saved them all. Dean was too tired to be furious. Too empty. Famine was right, there was nothing left in him. No spark or hunger for anything. Hell, it explained his immunity to him, didn’t it?

His brother was locked up in the panic room, begging them for help from hallucinations that they couldn’t help him with and everything was fucked. Dean swigged a swallow of whiskey from the bottle in his hand. Heart raw with the need to help Sam.

Cas looked sympathetically over at Dean from where he was standing beside Castiel, “You know … that’s not  _ him _ in there. Not really.”

“I know,” Dean said, voice low and defeated.

Next Castiel tried to reassure him, “Dean, Sam just has to get it out of his system.Then he’ll be—”

“Listen, I just … uh … I just need to get some air.”

With the bottle of booze clutched tight in his grip, Dean turned and tucked tail, Sam’s screams for him echoing in his head even when he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the real thing anymore. It was dark, out in the scrapyard, fog rolling over everything, and Dean hadn’t felt this alone in a long damn time, this eviscerated. He glanced furtively behind him as he wove through junkers and made sure no one had followed him out.

Next to baby he slowed to a stop. This sudden all-encompassing sense of helplessness stalling him and he went to take another swig from the bottle, but he’d barely tipped it up when disgust roiled, burned, in his stomach.

Everything was fucked. Nothing he did was helping. The hell was he supposed to do here? He didn't know. He was runnin’ on empty and he just couldn't keep going like this. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, constantly waiting for another loss. He roughly rubbed a hand over his hair, jaw clenched.

Then his gaze drifted slowly up to the darkened sky, need making him desperate. “Please,” he whispered, broken, agonized, “I can’t—” he sucked in a breath and shook his head, hated that he was asking for this from a goddamn God he knew for a fucking fact didn’t give a damn about him. He licked his lips, eyes wet and throat on fire, “I need some help,” his voice was thick, pushed out painfully from his chest, “please?”

Air hissed between his teeth as a tear spilled over his cheek and he hated it, hated that he felt this battered and weak, that he couldn’t find a way out of this. That he couldn’t be strong enough for what was coming. Fuck, he just didn’t have it in him anymore. He didn’t have a goddamn thing left to give.  _ Couldn’t God see that? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, lemme know what you think, or any questions you have in the comments. Feel free to visit me on tumblr [@daydreamdestiel](http://daydreamdestiel.tumblr.com) or twitter [@DaydreamDestiel](https://twitter.com/DaydreamDestiel).
> 
> More soon. <3


	11. Chapter 11

The last while the hits had just kept right on coming. More than Dean could adequately wrap his brain around had gone down. Highlights’d included the dead rising and being put back down in Sioux Falls, Sam and Dean getting murdered by a couple of hunters while Cas was out on a beer run—and thank fuck Castiel had intercepted him before he’d walked in on that scene—and, oh yeah, they’d just killed The Whore. Of Babylon.

Castiel had gone on his first bender during that shit show of a hunt. He’d shown up drunk, disillusioned and depressed. Somehow Dean’d been expected to hold it together better than him. Better than an angel of the goddamn Lord who’d been so completely convinced that they’d find a way out of this not all that long ago.

But Castiel was right, and Dean knew how he felt. Nothing they did mattered. Nothing was changing. Inch by inch they were creeping toward that future he’d snatched Cas from, and for all that they were dragging their feet and trying to slow it down, the world kept marching toward the apocalypse.

There was no hope. None. This time—this was where hope went to die. The clock was ticking down, and they were losing. They’d been out of options for a long goddamn while, and Dean couldn't just sit back and watch the world around him fall apart like that other Dean had. Not if there was anything he could do to stop it.

Lying on the floor in that church with the Whore of Babylon straddling him, telling him that he was gonna let the apocalypse happen … he made a decision. Of all the things that he might do, that wasn’t one of ‘em. Not anymore. He was gonna say yes.

So last night after they’d gotten back to the hotel, Dean’d taken off. After he and Cas had gotten Castiel settled on the bed, he’d made his excuse about grabbing more bandages from the trunk and he’d gotten into the driver’s seat instead.

Now he was in some no-name motel, open bottle of booze to kill the remaining nerves that were thrumming in his body while he got everything in order. He packed Dad’s leather jacket into a box, carefully folded. On top of that he placed his colt, pearl grip shiny and bright against the dark brown leather. A letter he wrote for Sam, and one each for Cas and Castiel dropped on top. At least they’d have each other to get through this. Cas would make sure Sam didn’t give in. Dean didn’t know if he could face that.

He sealed the box with silver duct tape, hands trembling. And then used a black permanent marker to scrawl Bobby’s address on the top. He’d just poured himself a half-full glass of whiskey, had raised the cup almost all the way to his lips when the sound of someone behind him startled him.

“So that’s it, huh?” Cas asked voice rough, “A box of effects. That’s what you were gonna leave us?”

Dean whirled around, mouth dropping open, face paling. “How’d you find me?”

The sound Cas made was probably supposed to be a laugh, but there was nothing amused in it. “Dean, I lived with you for five years. I know how you think, and I know how to find you when you run to ground. Did it more than once when he thought he could change my mind about leaving. When it was,” his voice turned gruff, “‘for your own good, Cas’.” He rolled his eyes. “Turns out you have more in common with him than I thought.”

Dean bit his lip, and he was just so tired. “Guess I do.”

Cas’s eyes narrowed. “Killing yourself is stupid and pointless.”

“I’m not gonna kill myself,” Dean said, voice hitching.

“No? So you’re not planning to say yes to Michael? And afterward, you’ll just be okay when you’re left broken with the memories of what your body did to this world? To the innocent people crushed beneath the weight of the battle?” Cas asked, pleading on his face and in his words, but Dean couldn’t be moved. There was nothing left in him, no faith, no belief, no other choice.

The slow burn of his drink as he swallowed the rest down was the only thing he felt below the crushing weight of his own despair. He refilled his cup, and he wished he could do this one thing for Cas. He wished he could tell him it would be okay, that they’d find a way, but the truth of the matter was … there wasn’t another way. It sucked and it hurt, but it was clear: this was what he had to do. “Yeah, I guess.”

Cas was pissed now, “You  _ guess.”  _ He scoffed. “Oh that’s great. You guess. Well then what was the  _ fucking _ point, Dean? What was the point of dragging me back here to watch you die all over again? Is it supposed to make some kind of difference to me that you’re choosing this? Is it supposed to  _ comfort _ me that you would find an even stupider way to sacrifice yourself? Because let me tell you something Dean Winchester: if you brought me here to witness this, I won’t  _ let you!” _

Dean flinched. “Cas, I’m sorry,” Cas shook his head, eyes glassy, lips pressed tightly together, his jaw clenched. “I  _ am. _ You think I want this? I don’t. But we got nothin’, no other option to go on, and you know it.” 

The sound as he sipped another swallow of whiskey was deafening in the sudden silence.

“And you know I have to stop you,’ Cas said, determined, as he stalked closer.

“Yeah, well, you can try. But you’re not an angel anymore, are you Cas?” he asked, words meant to wound, and he hated himself for it.

The tightening of the skin around Cas’s eyes and his lips were the only sign that Dean hit his mark. “I’m not, but he is,” Cas nodded to the space behind Dean. He spun around just as the familiar sound of rustling alerted him to Castiel’s presence and he was out cold before he could react.

\---

“Yeah, no, this is good really. Eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but nah, tonight … tonight’s when the  _ magic  _ happens,” Dean said sarcastically with a grimace disguised as a smirk on his lips.

Bobby didn’t even glance up from his book. “You ain’t helpin’.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you let me get outta your hair, then?”

Sam gave him a dirty look from where he was sitting at one corner of Bobby’s desk, and Dean shrugged a shoulder, head tilted back against the wall.

Incredulously, Bobby stared up at him, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Reality happened.” Dean took a step forward and Cas crossed his arms. Castiel, next to him, stood straighter. All eyes on Dean and he hated it. “Nuclear’s the only option we have left. Michael can _ice_ the devil, save a _boatload_ _of people—”_

Bobby cut him off, “But not  _ all  _ of ‘em. We gotta think of somethin’ else.”

“Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say,” Dean threw his arms out and turned to the window, “but if Lucifer burns this mother down and I coulda done somethin’ about it, guess what?” Dean jabbed a finger at himself, “That’s on  _ me. _ ”

And Bobby, God love him, Bobby just didn’t know when to quit. Dean’s frustration with his helplessness was already boiling over, rage at being held back from the only thing he could do right creeping under his skin. Bobby shook his head and said, “You can’t give up, son.”

Dean chuckled breathily, not really a laugh as he shook his head, “You’re not my father,” Bobby’s face fell, and it was just one more thing to add to the stains on Dean’s soul, “and you ain’t in my shoes.”

Sam gave him a pissed off look, shook his head, silently admonishing Dean, but he couldn’t let himself feel bad. They were better off without him. All of them, and the sooner they knew that … the sooner they got it through their thick fucking skulls that Dean was no good—not for anyone—the better off they’d all be. He crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall again, glaring off into nothing.

The scrape of Bobby’s desk drawer opening grabbed Dean’s attention and he glanced back over in time to see Bobby pull out a revolver. He set it heavily on his desk with a sigh, and then he pulled a single bullet from the pocket of his flannel shirt. He held it up, ends pinched between his index finger and his thumb, for Dean to see.

“What is that?” Dean asked against his better judgement, lance of fear in his gut, the answer already clear before Bobby said a word.

“That’s the round I mean to put through my skull,” Bobby tapped the bullet down on the desk and left it standing there, his eyes fixed on it. “Every morning I look at it … I think: maybe today’s the day I flip the lights out,” he finally looked up at Dean. “But I don’t do it. I  _ never _ do it. You know why?” Dean wasn’t looking at him, he couldn’t.

Bobby’s voice was loud, furious, and it sent a chill of fear down Dean’s spine as he yelled, “Because I promised  _ you  _ I wouldn’t _ give up!”  _ Silence stretched out between them, Bobby’s eyes boring into Dean’s.

Then Castiel grunted in pain as he doubled over, hands clutched to his temples.

“Cas, you okay?” Sam asked.

“No,” he answered, eyes unfocused.

“What’s wrong?” Cas questioned, one hand supporting Castiel’s arm.

Castiel glanced up. “Something’s happening.”

Concern for him overriding everything else, Dean’s hands fell to his sides as he stepped toward Castiel. “Where?”

Castiel’s blue eyes met his and then in a flutter of wind that sent papers flying, he vanished.

\---

Turned out the thing that’d happened was the goddamn angels bringing their half-brother Adam back to life. Apparently they’d had enough waiting around for Dean. Michael was willing to take Adam as a vessel to get his apocalypse on. And now Dean was locked in the fucking panic room because he’d made his feelings on letting Adam take his place known.

The kid’d had a shitty enough deal, getting eaten to death by ghouls for nothing more than the curse of having been John Winchester’s son. Dean wasn’t gonna let him have to go through this, too, not when it was supposed to be his ass on the line. So they’d stuck him in here to keep him from sneaking out, but Dean had a plan. He waited for everyone but Castiel to go up to sleep, and then he put it into motion.

Castiel’s expression when he’d seen the sigil,the heartbreak and betrayal one his face in the seconds before Dean’s bloody palm had smacked down and blasted him away, had ripped a brutal gaping hole in Dean’s chest. It’d taken him a long moment to catch his breath through the agony of it, through the self-loathing that coiled in his stomach and writhed acidic.

Now he was walking down a busy darkened road, and the crazy guy across the street out in front of a glowing bar sign caught Dean’s eye. He was yelling about angels and the end times, and none of the people passing him by and avoiding his eyes had a damn clue that he was actually on the right track. Lucky for them. Dean crossed the road as soon as it was clear enough to.

He approached the guy. “Hey. I'm Dean Winchester. Do you know who I am?”

“Oh dear God,” he exclaimed, face pale.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. I'm gonna need you to pray your angel buddies. Let 'em know that I'm here.”

The guy dropped to his knees, hands folded up in front of him around his bible in prayer, “Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name—”

“You pray too loud,” Castiel's unmistakable voice rumbled. Shit.

The next thing Dean knew, Castiel had knocked the guy out and he was shoving Dean into the alley beside the bar. His back connected with brick, hard. Castiel's hands were clenched in his jacket holding him in place against the wall. A shock of fear crawled down Dean's spine from the back of his skull as Dean grin from the impact. “What're you, crazy?”

Castiel spun him around into the other wall like he weighed nothing, driving the breath from Dean's lungs with the force of it. “I rebelled for this?” he spat, contempt and rage burning in his eyes, visible even in the dark of the alley. The sudden shocking heat of Castiel's lips against Dean’s startled him for half a second and then Castiel was kissing him punishingly hard—biting fiercely at his lips and shoving his tongue against Dean's. Possession and anger, and Dean enthusiastically responded in kind with his whole body. Castiel broke away panting after a moment, fury making his voice a dangerously low, trembling, growl, “So that you could surrender to  _ them?” _

He slammed Dean back over into the other wall and one of his thighs wedged between Dean's as he kissed him fiercely. Dean's lungs struggled for air, but he kissed Castiel back just as frantically. His fingers curled up tight in the back of Castiel's trenchcoat, and his throat went scratchy with tears that he was barely holding back.

Fuck, he was livid at Castiel for stopping him, and grateful that he'd saved him. A fucked up tangle of emotion was jolting around in his chest, and the only thing Dean could parse was the friction of Castiel's strong thigh rubbing up against the hardening length of his cock, Castiel's teeth scraping at his mouth.

“Cas, please,” Dean panted—he didn't know what he wanted but he  _ needed _ Castiel.

“I gave  _ everything  _ for you, and this is what you give me?” Castiel asked, hurt and disappointment rolled up with wrath in his voice, even as his fingers slipped between them and fumbled open Dean's pants.  _ God, yes. _

His lips fastened on the side of Dean's neck, and he bit down hard as he reached into Dean's jeans and palmed his throbbing dick, still trapped in his underwear. “Fuck, Cas.”

Castiel growled against his skin and bit down again, soothed the bites with his tongue before he sucked, drawing blood to the surface and making Dean go hot all over. His whole body narrowed down to the feel of Castiel against him. His own ferocity mixed with the pleasure that was violently coursing through him, a heady cocktail and he somehow managed to get his hands to cooperate and get Castiel's dick out.

Blood-hot and full when his fingers wrapped around it, and Castiel didn't waste any time mirroring him. Castiel’s calloused hand was scorching against Dean's bare skin—the cold night air sent shivers down Dean's spine. Neither of them were gentle with one another, but Castiel's lips found his again, his kiss passionate, stormy. Dean bit back at him, sensation slamming through him, leaving him reeling and dizzy.

The rough stroking of Castiel's fist, grip tight rapidly shoved Dean closer and closer to his orgasm. It built up at the base of his spine, tension that made his whole body stiffen. Fuck, he felt Castiel getting close too, their breaths were coming in heaving gasps against each other's lips, Castiel's teeth still dug into the swell of Dean's bottom lip. “Do it,” Dean groaned. “Cas, just  _ do it.” _

All over Dean's hand, onto his t-shirt, and dripping down to his pants, Castiel came. Slick of it soaking into the material and setting Dean's body aflame. Infinitesimally, Castiel's grip on Dean's dick tightened and fuck, it was enough to send Dean soaring into his own climax. Toes curling in his boots, free hand clawing at the back of Castiel's trench coat, he spilled his release with a ragged moan of Castiel's name.

They were still catching their breath when Castiel pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, fight drained out of him, but more determined than ever, it seemed. “We won’t lose you like this, Dean. We refuse to.”

Dean's head tipped back against the brick behind him, eyes closing. There was a cooling sensation that passed over him and he noticed that he was tucked away again, clean—then everything faded to white before he even fully processed what'd just happened.

\---

By the time Dean came to, Adam was gone. Castiel coolly informed him that the angels had gotten to him. It was all his fault … he should’ve said yes the second he’d had the chance, and then Adam would still be in Heaven where he belonged. Now, unless they saved him, he’d be Michael’s goddamn muppet. It wasn’t fair to put this on him—it was Dean’s responsibility.

“Where the hell are we?” Dean asked once Cas had flapped his wings and deposited him, Sam, and Cas on a path behind some big dilapidated once-white factory lookin’ place. Hey … was that a palm tree?

“Van Nuys, California,” Castiel informed them as he started walking.

Why? Dean scrambled after him. “Where’s the beautiful room?” he asked, confused.

“In there,” Castiel indicated the building.

“The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?” Dean questioned incredulously as they rounded the building.

“Yes,” Cas glanced over his shoulder at him. “Where did you think it would be?”

“I—I dunno … Jupiter?” Dean replied with a wide shrug. “A … a blade of grass? Not Van Nuys.”

Dean looked around at the place again, searching out any sign of angels—just something that showed they were at the right place, but nothing. It looked exactly like what it was, an abandoned building with nothing out of place to draw a suspicious eye.

“Tell me again why you don’t just … grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there?” Sam asked, brow furrowed.

Castiel frowned at him, “Because there are at least five angels in there.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “So, you’re fast.”

“They’re faster,” Cas pointed out. “Five of them, no way he gets in and out with Adam intact.”

Castiel nodded his agreement. “I have a plan,” he explained, loosening his tie. He slipped it from his collar, folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. “Uh, I’ll clear them out. You three grab the boy. This is our only chance.”

Dean’s stomach dropped fast, brows flying up as he reached out and grabbed Cas’s arm, “Woah, woah, woah, wait. You’re gonna take on five angels?”

Castiel lifted his chin. “Yes.”

“Isn’t that suicide?” Dean asked, chest clenching tightly, body going cold.

“Maybe it is,” Castiel admitted, “but then I won’t have to watch you fail. Sorry, Dean,” he shook his head minutely, “I don’t have the same faith in you that Sam does.”

It was a slow sinking feeling—that knowledge. The fact that Castiel no longer believed in him. It twisted up ugly in his guts, and left him silent and frozen. Watching helplessly as Castiel pulled an exacto knife from his pocket.

“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” Sam asked, Castiel just looked away.

Cas frowned. “He’s gonna carve the banishing sigil into himself. Aren’t you? Cas, that could—”

“It’s the only way,” Castiel interrupted him. “The risk is acceptable.”

_ What risk, _ Dean wanted to ask,  _ what are you talking about, _ but he couldn’t get the words out.

\----

Adam slipped through their fingers. He’d pushed Cas, wheezing and bleeding from a split lip, out the door first, a Winchester through and through, and he’d been trapped with Michael. It was over and done with before they even got the door open again, blinding white light and then nothing. An empty room. No Adam, no sign of Castiel. Nothing to show for another goddamn sacrifice. Was it ever gonna end? Were they ever gonna be done bleeding enough for the goddamn world? Why did it always come down to them? Why?

Dean’s fists clenched in his lap. He stared at the wall of his room at Bobby’s and hated everything. Worry for Castiel was eating him alive, and regret over Adam’s fate seethed in his stomach. The bed dipped when Cas sat beside him. One of Cas’s hands came up and cradled his jaw, turning Dean so that he was facing him. Cas’s eyes were so blue, so fathomless.

“Cas is okay,” he said softly. Dean wasn’t sure exactly who he was trying to reassure with that. There was unspoken doubt in all that blue, clear as day, and it tugged at something in Dean’s chest. That need of his to always protect people reared its head and so Dean nodded.

“Yeah,” he said roughly. “He’s tough. He … uh … he’ll be back soon, right? Good as new.”

Cas nodded too, and bit at his bottom lip, eyes shiny. He was just as worried as Dean. Somehow through all of this, Cas had come to care about Castiel every bit as much as Dean did. He didn’t really know what to do with the emotions that brought up. His chest swelled warm, and his eyes went damp. He didn’t know how to make everything okay, how to fix things.

So, Dean did the only thing he knew how to do in a situation like this. He leaned in and kissed Cas softly, gentle sweeps of his tongue, and brushes of their lips together. Dean used his body to take Cas apart slowly, assuring him that he was still there. That he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now.

\---

One close encounter with Lucifer, one more sacrifice—this time Gabriel’s—later, and they finally had the beginnings of a plan. In a Casa Erotica video of all places, Gabriel had left them a roadmap for how to save the world. With their best shot at taking Lucifer out gone, there was one other option: stuff him back in the goddamn box he’d been let out of. They needed rings from the four horsemen, and Dean’s stomach had somersaulted violently when he’d realized they were half-way there already. 2 of four down.

Still, that left Pestilence and Death, and they didn’t exactly have a bead on either of them. And besides, how the hell did you go up against Death and come out on top anyway? Dean wasn’t sure you could, but it wasn’t like there was a backup plan waiting in the wings. No, this was it. This was the plan. The only plan. What’d they have to lose?


	12. Chapter 12

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean exclaimed furiously, eyes narrowed at Sam in Bobby’s kitchen.

“Dean,” Sam warned, arms crossed over his chest, but Dean just fumed more.

“No, don’t  _ Dean _ me, you—you have had some  _ stupid  _ ideas in the past, but  _ this,”  _ he glanced over at Bobby in the study, “d-did you know about this?”

“What?” Bobby asked, wheeling closer.

“About Sam’s  _ genius  _ plan to say  _ yes  _ to the  _ devil?”  _ Dean demanded, and he didn’t miss the way that Cas’s eyes were panicked, tracking the conversation. Softly, Bobby nodded and Dean’s temper soared.  _ “Well, thanks for the head’s up!” _

“Hey, this ain’t about me,” Bobby complained.

Instantly, Dean whirled back around to face Sam, finger pointing forcefully at him, “You can’t do this.”

Sam shrugged, leaning up against the sink, palms curling up around the edge of the counter, knuckles white and an almost smile he definitely didn't mean at the corners of his lips. “That’s the consensus.”

“Alright, awesome, then,” Dean said flatly, “end of discussion.” The shrill sound of his cell phone ringing interrupted before he could finish making clear just how fucking bad of an idea that shit was. “This isn’t over.”

He dug into his pocket and fished out his phone. He accepted the call and growled,“Hello?”

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice—a rush of relief so intense that it left him unsteady on his feet washed over Dean.

“Cas?”

Cas and Sam both leaned forward, twin echoes of, “Is he okay?” bursting from both of their mouths. They glanced at each other with surprise before they both looked back to Dean.

Dean held up a hand at them, voice raw when he said, “We all thought you were dead, where the hell are you, man?”

“A hospital.”

Fear plunged Dean’s stomach to the ground. A chill tingled along his scalp. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Ice formed in Dean’s chest, made it hard to breathe. “You wanna elaborate?”

“I just … woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised, they thought I was braindead.”

“S-so a hospital,” Dean stuttered, mind stuck on the one thing that he could handle about what Castiel was saying.

“Yeah,” Castiel grunted—he sounded pained. “Apparently after Van Nuys … I suddenly appeared … bloody and unconscious on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I’m told it upset the sailors.”

“Uhh,” Dean shook his head and tried to focus on the important stuff here, like that Castiel was talking and breathing. “Well, I gotta tell you, Cas, you’re just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan’s box.”

“How?” Castiel asked, followed by a rustling noise and another grunt of pain that squeezed at Dean’s chest.

“It’s a long story, but look, we’re going after Pestilence  _ now.  _ So if you wanna … zap over here.”

“I can’t zap anywhere.” Castiel confessed, sounding defeated.

Confusion furrowed Dean’s brow. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s that my batteries are drained,” he mumbled like he was embarrassed.

The hell? “What d’you mean? You’re out of angel mojo?”

“I mean, that I am thirsty … and my head aches … I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it. I’m saying that I’m just incredibly—” he scoffed.

“Human,” Dean finished quietly for him. Castiel let out a rush of air. “Wow. Sorry.”

“Well, my point is that I can’t go anywhere without money for an aeroplane ride. And food. More pain medication, ideally.”

“Alright,” Dean rubbed his forehead. “Well, look, no worries. Bobby’s here, he’ll wire you the cash.”

“I will?” Bobby asked faintly.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel quickly rushed to cut him off before he hung up—not that he was about to, but Castiel clearly thought he had been. “You said no to Michael…. I owe you an apology.”

“Cas, it … uh, it’s okay,” he shrugged a shoulder, feeling awkward.

Softly, Castiel said, “You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be.”

Great to know. “Thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “I appreciate that.”

Warmly, Castiel replied, “You’re welcome.”

Dean almost chuckled with relief and then Castiel hung up the phone. He grinned over at Cas. “He’s okay. Mostly. Just a little more—”

“Human than he’s used to?” Cas asked with a fond smile and Dean nodded.

\---

Getting the ring from Pestilence wound up being every bit as disgusting as Dean somehow knew it would be. Even Castiel hadn’t been immune to the illness he was causing when he’d shown up. He’d still overcome it though, in time to save all their asses by cutting off Pestilence’s ring. He’d looked like a badass, too, when he surged up with the demon blade spouting a clever reply to Pestilence’s taunting.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too late,” Pestilence had told them, holding his bloody hand by the window. A chill’d tensed Dean’s back as he disappeared.

Back at Bobby’s, all of them were grim, except Bobby. “Well,” he said as Dean tossed the ring onto his desk, “It’s nice to score a home run for once, isn’t it?”

Silence met his statement and Bobby raised his eyebrows at them. “What?” he asked warily.

Sam shifted on his feet. “The last thing Pestilence said … ‘It’s too late’.”

“He get specific?” Bobby questioned.

Sam shook his head. “No.”

Dean grimaced, and glanced at Bobby. “We’re just a little freaked out that he might’ve left a bomb somewhere. So please tell us you have actual good news.”

Bobby stared at him a second. “Chicago’s about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millenium. Sets off a daisy-chain of natural disasters; three million people are gonna die.”

“Huh.” Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head forward.

“I don’t understand your definition of good news,” Castiel informed Bobby.

“Well,” Bobby glanced up at him, “Death, the horseman … he’s gonna be there, and if we can stop him before he kickstarts this storm, and get his ring—”

“Yeah,” Dean cut him off, “you make it sound  _ so _ easy.”

Bobby glared. “Hell, I’m just tryin’ to put a spin on it.”

“Bobby,” Sam finally piped up, “how’d you put all this together anyways?”

Bobby’s cheeks flushed a little and he got kinda shifty. Not a good goddamn sign if Dean’d ever seen one. “I … uh, you know … I had a bit of help.”

A clink sounded behind them, glass against glass and the pouring of liquid. Dean looked over his shoulder. Crowley.

Which was how they found out that Bobby made a deal. Sold—temporarily or so Crowley claimed—his soul for Death’s location. Soon as this thing was over Dean was gonna kill that slimy son of a bitch once and for all.

\---

It was dark out when Cas piled into the van with Sam, Castiel and Bobby—who could now, thankfully walk again. Cas wished the Bobby he knew’d had the same chance, but he was long dead. An old pain that still ached in his gut sometimes—the fact that all of the people he’d known in his old life’d likely died by now and he was the sole survivor was a lead weight around his neck these days.

Now that they were slipping closer and closer to the time when things seemed to be converging with the path his world had taken, it kept on getting heavier. Sam and Castiel were discussing Sam’s plan to say yes to Lucifer, to overpower him and throw him in the box and Cas wanted to scream. This couldn’t be allowed to happen. He voiced his opinion, but no one seemed inclined to listen and he wondered if Dean felt it as acutely as he did: this sense that nothing they tried was changing things.

He’d wanted to be angry at Dean; that second time he’d slipped away to say yes to Michael, he’d wanted to shout at him that he and Castiel were right there—and weren’t they enough to keep him from saying yes. But now that things were coming down to the wire, he understood. He loved Dean. He loved Cas, too. And in a different way, he loved Sam and Bobby. He loved  _ this world. _

This perfectly imperfect world that had never known the horror of the croatoan virus spreading unstoppably through city after city. That’d never watched the entire world burn around them. He saw it and he wanted to protect it with everything he was.

Sam’s plan, though, was folly. The odds were so slim that it was laughable. It would be—if he wasn’t so terrified of Sam’s failure. Flashes of those green eyes that he loved so, so much dimming in an instant as the life drained out of them assaulted his vision. The sickening crack of his neck under Lucifer’s shoe—under  _ Sam’s _ foot echoed in his ears.

It wasn’t until they were in the middle of the raid on the factory where the croatoan virus vaccine was going to be distributed from that a plan coalesced in Cas’s mind. He was hyper-alert, dispatching Croats with detached professionalism born of too many years taking them out. For all intents and purposes, he was back there—back in that hellhole and fighting for the last holdouts humanity had to offer.

Every Croat he dropped was another reminder that he couldn’t let this become reality here. He couldn’t lose everyone again, not like this. He wouldn't watch this world fall like his had.

He was off on his own without Sam, hunting down Croats one by one until he’d cleared the building. Just as he walked back out onto the main floor he saw Sam on the ground struggling with a Croat above him and his mind recoiled in horror as his body rushed forward. Headshot fired before he was even fully conscious of it—Cas rushed forward to make sure he hadn't been too late. Sam rolled the body off of him, and his terrified gaze met Cas’s.

Fear melted away to relief in Sam’s hazel eyes, “Thanks, Cas.”

Simple words, but they cemented Cas’s decision, shored up any cracks in his resolve. Sam, and Dean, and this world? Cas would give anything to save them. Anything.

\---

Dean headed out into the scrapyard. The rings were burning a hole in the pocket of jeans, and his stomach was twisting with the wrongness of what he was about to do even though his head said that it was the right thing. Sam was sitting up on Baby’s trunk, his eyes focused on something in the distance, a bottle of beer cupped in his hands.

He noticed Dean’s approach and glanced over, “Hey,” he said as Dean leaned down and grabbed his own beer from the green cooler by the back wheel. Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t open his beer for long enough that Sam apparently got concerned. “Dean?” he felt Sam looking at him. “What’s goin’ on?”

He took in a deep breath, leaning back against the side of the Impala as he twisted the top off his beer and tossed the cap to the ground. “I’m in.”

“In with?”

“The whole up with Satan thing. I’m on board.” Dean glanced quickly at Sam and then away. He felt Sam shift behind him.

“You’re gonna let me say yes?” Sam asked with disbelief.

Dean’s stomach clenched. He softly shook his head. “No. That’s the thing … it’s not  _ on _ me to  _ let _ you do anything. You’re a grown—uh, overgrown—man. If this is what you want, I’ll back your play.”

The thought of losing Sam was antithetical to Dean’s entire being, every bit of him, so it didn’t come as a surprise when Sam replied, “That’s the last thing I ever thought I’d hear you say.”

“Might be,” Dean joked, Sam chuckled softly, without any amusement. “I’m not gonna lie to you though, it goes against fibre I got. But the truth is,” Dean glanced back at Sam, “watchin’ out for you … it’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s—” he looked away, ache in his chest growing with every word. “It’s kinda who I  _ am. _ You’re not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can’t keep treatin’ you like one.”

Dean clenched his jaw, then forced himself to add, “Hell, maybe I gotta grow up a little, too.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know if we got a snowball’s chance … but … I do know that if anybody can do it … it’s you.”

Sam looked grateful, voice a touch too soft when he said, “Thank you.”

“If this is what you want,” Dean nodded a little, almost to himself. “Is this really what you want?” he asked eyes locking with Sam’s, his voice thick with emotion.

Sam looked away and drew in a deep breath. “I let him out. I gotta put him back in.”

Dean's stomach was a tight knot of anguish but he forced his face smooth, forced his voice normal. “Okay. That’s it, then.” He took a swig of beer that didn’t do a damn thing to make him feel less like his throat was dry and itchy, like his chest was a hollow of grief. 

For a long while they stayed that way, silently sipping their beer. Dean tried not to think too hard about the fact that when they headed into the house later, it might be the last night that him and his brother slept under the same roof.

\---

Late that night, up in his room, Dean found Castiel and Cas waiting for him. Castiel had Cas worked open on three fingers when Dean walked in, bottle of lube pilfered from Dean’s duffel bag by the bed. They’d fucked in all kinds of creative ways since they’d started this up, but mostly they were too rushed for this. There never seemed to be enough time to go slow.

The world might end tomorrow though, Dean’s certainly felt like it was. So he stripped down and climbed onto the bed. Let Castiel guide him into Cas’s body and made love to him slow, and sensual. Lingering kisses and touches between all three of them while Castiel stroked Dean’s back. Beneath him, Cas was a little desperate. Whimpers and near silent moans forced out of Cas’s throat with every thrust of Dean’s hips until he came wetly between their bellies.

Then, Dean and Castiel rutted slickly against one another next to him. Dean on his back, face tucked into the curve of Castiel's neck, lips clinging wetly to the sweat damp skin there until they both shattered, too. The whole time, Cas’s hands were all over him, all over Castiel, like he couldn't stop touching them, like he was memorizing them in case something went wrong tomorrow. Dean's chest ached, ‘cause there was nothing he could say to that.

He couldn't tell Cas that it'd be okay—not with any amount of honesty. He couldn't promise that he wasn’t gonna die this time. That Castiel wouldn't either. All he could do, was put him in the middle of the bed and pull Castiel down to curl up around him, too. All he could do was kiss his temple and whisper soft words until he finally fell asleep in their arms.

The next morning Dean woke up slow. He stretched out his arms and only found one body next to him. Sleepily he blinked his eyes open and saw Castiel still curled up in the bed. Where was Cas? He rolled over and fumbled on the floor for his jeans, figuring he’d make a trip to the washroom and then track Cas down but as he pulled them on he noticed something wrong. It took his sluggish thoughts a second to figure out exactly what.

“The rings are gone,” he said out loud, voice morning-rough, and Castiel’s head lifted from the pillow to glance blearily at him through slitted eyes.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, echoing Dean’s confusion.

“Cas is gone,” Dean explained, still not understanding what was going on, “and so are the rings.”

What the fuck was happening? Had Cas betrayed them? Why else would he take the rings? It made no sense. Castiel didn’t have time to say anything before Dean was flying down the stairs, out into the yard barefoot and shirtless. It was freezing fucking cold, but that didn’t even make it to Dean’s top ten list of things that were wrong with this picture.

One of Bobby’s cars was missing. The goddamn thing was barely running, but Cas was from an apocalyptic future, maybe he’d picked up a couple tricks.

Footsteps behind him alerted him to Castiel’s presence. He was more sensibly dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel—likely snagged from Dean’s duffel. Castiel’s head was tilted, his eyes were doing that squinty thing.

“Cas, why the hell would he steal the rings? Where would he even go?” Dean demanded.

Dean’s stomach lurched as some sort of realization went off in Castiel’s mind and his face fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Yay! I got a second wind and got way more edited than I thought I would today. Just one more chapter and a bit of epilogue to go. T.T I should have them up for you tomorrow. <3<3


	13. Chapter 13

“What?” Dean asked, shocked fucking stupid. They were all gathered in the study, Bobby, Sam and Castiel. “Why would he go after Lucifer on his own?

Castiel sighed in exasperation. “He’s not  _ going after _ Lucifer, Dean. I think his plan is to offer himself as a vessel to Lucifer in Sam’s place.” He let his words sink in for a few seconds before he added, “There’s no other reason that could explain why he took the rings.”

Vehemently, Dean shook his head, “No. He wouldn’t—he can’t. How is that even possible? Why the hell would Lucifer even agree to that?”

Like he was explaining it to a little kid, Castiel patiently said, “His vessel is stronger than most, if Lucifer is impatient enough, he'll accept the deal. As far as why Cas would do this, are you genuinely confused by his actions? He watched Sam kill you once, Dean, it’s fairly easy to see that he’s unwilling to risk the same outcome once more.”

And fuck, that made sense. He didn’t like it, but it rang with truth.

Sam’s eyebrows were raised when he spoke, “Okay, but how did he know where Lucifer would be?”

Double goddamn fuck. Dean frowned, memory springing up like a jack-in-the-box to the forefront of his mind, “Detroit. It happens in Detroit.”

So they drove like hell for the place Bobby found in Detroit that was crawling with demon signs. Cas had a huge head start on them though. Near as Dean could figure, he’d taken off not long after he and Castiel’d passed out.

Cas was gone by the time they got to Detroit. They found some dead demons in an abandoned house and no sign of Cas or the devil, but he’d been there. Dean could feel it in the room.

He held it together until they got back to the alley that they’d parked the car in, anguish and despair were welling up uncontrollably in his chest and he was fuckin’ losing it. Tears stung at his eyes and throat. He was pissed the hell off—rage that boiled in his veins. His fist slammed into a dumpster and he didn’t even register the pain in his hand. In desperation he pulled at his hair. “Son of bitch! Cas, you son of a goddamn bitch. What the hell!”

Why had he ever thought—even for a second—that he could have this? That he’d be allowed to have both of them. His lungs burned in his chest and he collapsed back against the side of the Impala with a pained grunt. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pitying, concerned gazes he felt on him as he fought back tears.

Sam was the first to speak up. “What do we do now?”

Listlessly, Castiel replied, “I suggest copious quantities of alcohol.… Just wait for the inevitable blastwave.”

Dean opened his eyes to glare at him. “Yeah, swell. Thank you, Bukowski. H-how do we stop it?”

Castiel looked every bit as torn up as Dean felt. His voice broke, and his eyes were watering, “We don’t. Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field, and the battle of Armageddon begins.”

Desperately, Dean’s mind searched for some way to fix this. “Okay, well where’s this chosen field?”

He was breaking, cracking apart into little pieces, but he couldn’t let this go, couldn’t let Cas go—let alone let the planet go to hell. This was on him, he needed to  _ stop  _ it.

“I don’t know,” Castiel reluctantly admitted.

No. This … this couldn’t be it. There had to be— “Well there’s gotta be something we can do!”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, stepping forward and gripping Dean’s shoulder, tears rolling down from eyes that had no damn right to look that sad. Wetting a face that was never meant to hold that much hurt. “This is over.”

“No,” Dean denied flatly, “No you listen to me: we’re not  _ letting him go like this.  _ You hear me? It can’t be for  _ nothing, _ ” his voice sounded hysterical even to his own ears. “We are  _ not _ giving up.” Dean’s gaze flew wildly to land on Bobby. “Bobby,” he pleaded, “Bobby?”

Bobby’s face was pained, and Dean wanted to scream, because Bobby was supposed to have the answer here, he  _ always _ had the answer. “There was never much hope to begin with.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

Woodenly, Dean stared into the distance, seeing nothing until an errant thought struck him and his heart thudded painfully hard against his ribcage. They didn’t know where the field was—but someone they knew might.

One phone call to Chuck and they had the time and place. Stull Cemetery, high noon, tomorrow. Dean’s pulse raced. He had no fuckin’ clue what he was gonna do to stop it, to save Cas, but he for damn sure wasn’t gonna just leave him to face this alone. Wasn’t gonna happen.

\---

Cas tried to blink, but his eyes didn’t so much as twitch. One moment there was nothingness—no awareness, no light. Lucifer had him locked up tight. And then, everything was blinding as Cas’s consciousness flooded with color. Lucifer wanted to rub it in … his victory. He really wanted Cas to suffer, that was apparent. More than that: he wanted Dean to know that Cas was suffering.

So he let Cas see. A rush of images, and sensations that tore at him like so many knives and claws and teeth. His hands. Hurting Dean. Punching him. Over and over. Snapshots of sound—the bones breaking in that perfect face that Cas loved so much. His chest clenched, grief and rage, Lucifer was going back on his word, and had he ever expected less?

There was a bright flare of light that blinded Cas and then he was flashing back to all of these moments with Castiel and Dean. The look in Dean’s eyes that first night when he was on his knees in his cabin, that fondness in them like a physical caress. The way Dean’d sounded the first time he said he loved him. Castiel’s hands on his arm, slipping hotly over his back. His warm, curious blue eyes, always glad to see him.

Back further to  _ his _ Dean. A field of wildflowers on a late spring night, and the end of the world was already starting around them but Dean kissed him that day while the sun faded orange-pink in the sky. A shy press of lips that grew bolder.

Dean’s orbital socket cracked beneath his fist, the sound of it crystal clear, and Cas saw  _ his _ Dean’s green eyes losing their light.  _ NO.  _ He shoved and fought and kicked his way to the surface, every part of him screaming out to stop this.  _ No. _ He wouldn’t  _ let _ this happen. Not ever again and not with his hands. And then he surfaced, gasping for air. Lucifer clawed at him every second, but it was easy now. Because he needed to protect Dean. He needed to  _ save _ him.

Cas's eyes were full of tears—they dripped down his face and he didn’t try to stop them. Heart breaking in a million different ways as Dean stared at him with fear and waited for a killing blow that Cas would never allow to come.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” He sucked in a harsh breath, sound rushing in his ears. “I’ve got him. I—Dean, I’m sorry. I love you so much. I … couldn’t let Sam die and I couldn’t watch him kill you again. Forgive me,” he begged. There were tears on Dean’s swollen face, a wet gurgle bubbled up in Dean's throat; his lips too swollen to talk, and Cas spared the brief thought that he wished he could heal him. Something creeping at the back of his mind urged him to, but he couldn’t risk it. “I’m sorry,”

He walked backward toward the pit, eyes closed and already leaning back to make the drop into the dark when Michael’s furious, “No!” reached him. He grabbed onto Michael’s shirt and pushed off from the edge of the earth with all the force in his body—plunged them both into the darkness of the cage. And as the earth above them swallowed up the hole while they were still plummeting, satisfaction beat in his heart. Dean was worth it. Falling. He always would be.

\---

Dean’s existence was made up of agony—everything was anguish and torment, and the physical part was the least of it. He couldn’t see out of one eye, and he was pretty goddamn sure that a ton of his bones were broken. His lungs were barely pulling in air, but he didn’t care. They were dead. Cas and Castiel both. Everything he’d been fighting to save was gone, and he was too numb to do anything but kneel in the dirt and wish that he was dead, too.

Spit and blood dripped onto his shirt from his swollen mouth and he oughta get up somehow and check on Sam. God, Bobby was dead, too. What if they all were? What if it was just Dean left?

Terror clutched at his already struggling lungs and he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he thought he was gonna die and the only thing that he felt at the prospect was relief. All of this, and he was gonna get to die now, too.

He blinked watery eyes open as much as he could at the grief-stricken sound of his name in Castiel’s voice and he had to be dead, ‘cause that was Castiel standing right there, not exploded all over the cemetery like Dean knew he was. Gently his hand cupped Dean’s face. This was it. He was dying, and this was Heaven.

A familiar twinge slithered through his body and he blinked hard. His eyes opened fully and he he could see everything clearly again, including Castiel softly smiling down at him. All the pain that’d wracked his body was gone—save for the hollow in his chest where his heart was supposed to be, that was still a throbbing empty ache that didn’t ease all that much. “Cas,” he breathed, God, at least he was there. At least he got to keep him.

Castiel shot him a half-smile, “Good as new,” he said, and then he was walking over and kneeling next to Bobby. A gasp wrenched from Bobby’s chest and then he was heaving in breaths, color returning to his body. “Maybe a little better than new,” he allowed as he revived Sam too.

Sam’s eyes met his across the field, pity and curiosity in them and Dean nodded as a tear tracked down his cheek. He blew out a breath and wiped it away. Misery curling up hot in his chest alongside his relief and guilt.

Some unspoken agreement happened while Dean was staring at the place where Cas’d been swallowed up by the earth. Sam and Bobby had taken Bobby’s van and left him behind with Baby and Castiel. When he got tired of staring at dead grass and unmarked ground, Dean numbly walked to his car. New fears sprouting up in his chest when he looked at Castiel, all angel-d up again.

It was dark out by the time he found enough courage to ask the question that’d been haunting him the whole drive. “What’re you gonna do now?”

Castiel smiled at him, face peaceful, “Return to Heaven, I suppose.”

Dean’s gut twisted. Of course he was. Of course he wasn’t gonna stay with Dean. He’d probably never been planning to. It didn’t matter that Dean had lost Cas, because losing one of them wasn’t bad enough—he was gonna lose Castiel, too. To this.

“Heaven?” his voice wavered.

“With Michael in the cage, I’m sure it’s total anarchy up there,” Castiel pointed out.

“So what? You’re the new sheriff in town?” he asked, already feeling himself starting to go numb again.

“I like that. Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“Wow. God gives you a brand new shiny set of wings and suddenly you’re his bitch again,” Dean said acerbically, eyes glued to the road so Castiel couldn’t see the hurt in them.

“Dean, I don’t know  _ what _ God wants,” he said, “I don’t know if he’ll even return. It just—seems like the right thing to do.”

Fury coalesced boiling hot in Dean’s chest and he glared. “Well if you do see him, you tell him I’m coming for him next.”

“He helped,” Castiel said gently, “maybe even more than we realize.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, yeah, that’s easy for you to say. He brought  _ you _ back. What about  _ Cas—huh?  _ What’d you just forget about him? He’s stuck in that goddamn cage and they’re probably—” Dean cut off with a shake of his head.

He couldn’t say it—couldn’t think it. He was already coming apart at the seams, and he had too much pride left to beg Castiel to stay. To beg him to think even a little, about staying with him. “He doesn’t  _ get _ to come back, and I gotta live with that. So you—” Dean shook his head harshly, “you do whatever it is you think is  _ right.  _ Because  _ God _ wants you to. And I—” Dean shrugged. “I’ll find a goddamn way to live with it.”

“I didn’t choose this,” Castiel said, clipped. “I didn’t  _ want _ this. Dean, I’m no happier with this turn of events than you are but if I don’t discover a purpose—a meaning in this,” he cut himself off, and Dean thought for a moment he saw a flash of pain across his features before his expression closed off. “This is how  _ I  _ find a way to live with it.”

Dean shook his head, a hollow denial on his lips. His eyes closed momentarily and when he glanced at the passenger seat again, Cas was gone. He glared at the road in front of him. “Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” he mumbled.

\---

He picked Sam up at Bobby's. They could've stayed. Hell, Bobby invited them to but Dean couldn’t be there right now. He couldn’t lie down in the bed where he'd made love to Cas, to Castiel. He couldn't look around Bobby's house right now without finding traces of them. If he stopped, if he stayed, he’d fall apart, and he wouldn't give himself that luxury.

So they drove. They cruised blacktop roads until Dean could barely see straight and the lines on the highway started blurring. And they ended up in some two-bit motel that’d seen better days with a bottle of Jack that didn’t feel like a celebration at all.

Sure, they beat the devil and the world was safe, Sam was safe. And that wasn’t nothin’, Dean was grateful that his kid brother stayed out of the cage with Lucifer and Michael. But everytime that he thought about Cas there, he wanted to throw up—bile rising in the back of his throat and panic crushing his chest.

It wasn’t goddamn fair that Cas was gone, and Castiel had bailed, and the world just decided it was gonna keep on going without Dean's permission. He didn’t know how to do this anymore. He didn't remember how the hell he did this before them.

All on his own again, the shitstorm that was his fucking life seemed so much bleeker. Maybe for everyone else it wasn't the end of the world—but it sure as hell was the end of Dean’s. 

 

**Epilogue**

 

A month had gone by. A whole month and not a damn word from Castiel in all that time. Not one. No calls, no texts, no goddamn wings rustling. Nothing. Just silence, and emptiness, and hunt after hunt after hunt just so that he could feel something other than the crushing heartbreak that was steadily consuming him.

Day by day it was getting harder to keep slogging through it. Sam was trying to keep him afloat, guilt in nearly everything he did for Dean like he somehow thought that Dean would be better off if he'd been the one to swan dive into the cage instead of Cas. It wasn't true. He'd be just as broken if his baby brother was cellmates with Satan for eternity. But Dean never told him that. He didn't have the capacity to hold emotionally fraught conversations. Not without the risk of letting out the feelings he'd bottled up tight.

They were at a gas station in Topeka when his phone rang in his pocket. He didn’t check the screen before he answered. It didn’t much matter who it was. Sam was hitting the can, and Dean was gassing up the car. Chances were pretty good that it was Bobby calling him with another lead on a hunt.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Hello, Dean.” His heart stopped cold before it stutter-skipped in his chest.

“Cas?” he breathed, heart pounding, now in his chest because fuck, he'd missed Castiel’s voice.

There was a smile in Castiel's tone, “Yes. Where are you?”

“Well, gee, nice to hear from you, Cas. I’m great. How’re you?” he replied sarcastically—apparently still pissed beneath his joy.

“I’m fine, Dean. Your location?”

Dean rattled off the address of the Gas & Sip they were filling up at. His lips pulled up into an involuntary smile at the sound of soft rustling behind him, and he spun around, eyes widening and lips falling open in shock.

Castiel  _ and _ Cas were feet away from him. Dean blinked. Still there. Cas had a wide, bright grin on his face, and Castiel was wearing this little proud smile … and Dean was—he had to be dreaming, right? That had to be what this was. He shoved the nozzle back into its place on the gas pump. 

“You—Are you? How did you?” Dean asked as he stumbled forward. Castiel opened his mouth like he was about to explain it, but he didn't get the chance. Dean's lips were on his before he got a single word out and Cas laughed. Dean's chest was gonna fucking burst for the way that sound made it swell.

He released Castiel just to repeat the whole process with Cas, and he didn't care if they were probably getting some dirty looks—because fuck it, how often did the loves of your life defy death and Heaven to come back to you?

Details would come later, and Dean would find out about how Castiel'd left that night in the car and marshalled enough power in Heaven to go after Cas. But right then, he was too busy finally being able to breathe again to really question how it happened.

Right then, Cas was smiling against his mouth, and mumbling that he loved Dean. Dean kissed the sentiment right back into his mouth. And then he pulled Castiel closer, into a weird, perfect, three-way hug. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't've—I could’ve—”

“It's alright,” Castiel cut him off, eyes crinkled at the corners and bluer than the afternoon sky. “We're here now.”

A throat cleared nearby, familiar and amused. Dean finally tore his gaze from Castiel's face, though he didn't make so much as a twitch to pull away. “Take it we're getting separate rooms tonight,” Sam said, then chuckled. “Hell, maybe you oughta drop me off at a different motel entirely.”

Dean cracked up, laughter bubbling up out of his chest like a pop bottle that’d been shaken too much before opening. Everything felt lighter, felt right again like it hadn't for over a month and this time—this time the world wasn't ending. This time, there wasn't a damn thing standing between them. Thank, fuck.

“Yeah, Sam,” he called over. “Maybe even a different city if you really don't wanna hear us.”

Every single person he loved most in the world simultaneously rolled their eyes and laughed at him and Dean—he was pretty damn okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this one's finally done. T.T It took a long time, but we got here. Thank you so much to everyone who read along and commented, and gave me the pushes I needed with this one. <3<3<3
> 
> I'd love to hear from you with any questions you or comments. :) Link to [reblog](https://daydreamdestiel.tumblr.com/post/173577552532/broken-roads-daydreamdestiel-supernatural) or [retweet](https://twitter.com/DaydreamDestiel/status/992417579577823233?s=09). <3


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